


Le Mot Vagabond

by ironicallyinternational



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, marauders - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Poly, Explicit Language, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Long Shot, M/M, Marauders' Era, Multi, Order of the Phoenix - Freeform, Peter gets killed, Pre-Canon, Slow Burn, War Era, Wizarding Wars
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-27
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2018-04-23 17:19:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 101,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4885216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironicallyinternational/pseuds/ironicallyinternational
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(It all starts with Peter Pettigrew dying twice. </p><p>First, Peter kills Wormtail (discreetly), and then Sirius kills him (less discreetly).</p><p>It's never easy losing a friend, even in a war, but it's far worse when it means you lose the last of your childish hopes.)</p><p>War is a complicated, messy thing. The Marauders have their fucked up shit to deal with, but they also have each other. It's not all that easy, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Incipit: The Servant of Lord Voldemort

**Author's Note:**

> Thus begins an extremely ambitious project of mine, with a rapid murder scene. I'm sure every Harry Potter reader has felt the same frustrated hatred while re-reading Peter's escape in POA, and bitterly wished for his death, not to mention less pain for Sirius and Remus both. 
> 
> From whence emerged a new thought: what would have changed if Peter's treason had been discovered? After all, it wouldn't have been that difficult to discover his escapades...
> 
> And so began Le Mot Vagabond.

Incipit: The Servant of Lord Voldemort 

 

 _“I, a spy for Voldemort? When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than myself? But you, Peter- I’ll never understand why I didn’t see you were the spy from the start. You always liked big friends who’d look after you, didn’t you? It used to be us…me and Remus…and James…”_ -JK Rowling, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

 

—

_The door burst open._

_It was Sirius, wild and frantic, and there was dark red dripping, and James and Lily were on their feet with their wands out._

_"James," Sirius managed, pupils blown, "James." His eyes, Lily noticed, were harsh, glinting like steel- composed, even, in sharp contrast with the rest of him._

_"I just killed Peter.”_

 

—

The wind was bitingly cold as the dark-haired young man made his way down the street, whistling above his head while he dug his hands deeper into his pockets.

Sirius huffed out a cloudy breath into the frosty air, flicking some of his hair out of his face.

His eyelashes had snowflakes in them; or something sort-like. It hadn't quite snowed yet, not properly, but it was getting there.

Everything about the grey skies and heavy clouds screamed November, as did the empty street and the fading, dead leaves on the sidewalk. Sirius felt like November- weary and waiting.

He'd narrowly escaped three Death Eaters about eight hours before reaching this particular street, covering his lithe young form in bruises and wounds and aches. Even now, after getting away, his eyes flickered about with an edginess that never really went away.

Sirius hadn't quite expected life to get so dangerous so quickly. They'd been out of Hogwarts for little over two years, and already a number of their good friends were gone forever, murdered or killed in combat.

Gryffindor or not, it was enough to make anyone constantly twitchy, especially nineteen year olds. Sirius was far from a coward, and was prepared to keep fighting for as long as necessary, but even he had to admit to himself that he'd been unprepared for the realities of war.

He was unsettled by the morning's encounter.

It had taken him off guard, and for a moment he'd thought he'd actually die there, on a dreary November morning, alone, at the hands of some masked genocidal terrorists.

The thought had made him angry enough to surge up and completely destroy the bastards, but he was aching all over from the effort. Disapparating afterwards probably wasn't the cleverest idea, but he'd wanted to get away, quickly.

More than anything, he realised, pausing to light a cigarette, inhaling the burning heat gratefully, it was the wrongness of it that irked him.

In the lonely, empty street, his huffed exhale sounded like a quiet whoosh.

 

Yes, the wrongness. Not just the wrongness of his near-death, no; something more, something else.

The warmth didn't last long against the harsh wind, and he was going to get ashes in his eyes standing around like this. Sirius set off again.

Something else...Ah, yes. How they'd found him.

Because they _had_ found him, he realised now. He'd thought, at the time, that it was simple coincidence, an unlucky encounter. Happened to everyone.

These men, however, well...There'd been something off about them. Looking back, Sirius now saw quite clearly how obviously planned the attack had been.

It was on an Order mission he'd been sent to the Barns, to plant some surveillance equipment- it wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last, that Dumbledore had to resort to cheap spying tricks. The area was simply too remote: any Order friendlies would stand out like a sore thumb amongst the inhabitants of the little village, and alert any Death Eaters to their presence in the area.

For the moment, no one had been caught, so they'd believed they'd gotten away with it. Wrong, obviously.

Sirius breathed out slowly, watching the smoke be swept away.

Yes, wrong. How strange that all the minor Order members going there had been left unscathed, and yet Sirius had been assaulted by not one but three Death Eaters.

Disgusted, Sirius flung his cigarette away, allowing the cold to nip at him wholly. Yet more proof of a traitor in the Order.

 

Dumbledore had been right yet again.

This time, however, Sirius had made a worse discovery than imagined, because the traitor was no longer simply an Order newbie or an outside contact. No, this person came from the inner circles, close to the heart of the Order.

Sirius' stomach lurched uncomfortably as names flew through his mind.

Mad Eye Moody. Arthur Weasley. Fabian and Gideon Prewett. McGonnagal. Frank and Alice Longbottom. Hagrid.

Peter. James. Remus. Lily.

Unsettled, Sirius shook his head. He knew it was only instinct to immediately think of anyone who could possibly be the traitor, but Sirius Black was nothing if loyal.

 

There were few crimes that Sirius detested more than betrayal.

James didn't understand. James was too good a soul. His world was better, clearer, than Sirius'.

"A lot of them are just scared people, Padfoot. I mean, obviously, it's terrible, but..." James had trailed off, eyes pained. "You can hardly blame people for being scared."

"I would die rather than betray my people." Sirius had spat out, pure acid. "And if these traitors can't do that in a war, then death is what they deserve."

Marlene McKinnon had been killed that week. Sirius couldn't get the guilt out of his conscience, nor could he stop thinking about their laughing banter.

James had looked understanding and disappointed, a blow to Sirius's heart. There was a cold, cruel streak to Sirius that even James would never wipe out.

Once a Black, always a Black.

"People can't all be as brave as you are, Sirius." Lily had said, tiredly. "Lots of people confess under duress only. You can't blame them for being tortured."

Sirius hadn't answered.

Now, suddenly, the thought struck him that Dumbledore had probably suspected this situation would arise.

It left an unpleasant taste in his mouth to know how easily their old Headmaster continued to gamble lives.

Remus understood Sirius' growing and unwilling mistrust. Remus was getting distant, these days.

Sirius didn't _want_ to start doubting Dumbledore. He was a wartime leader. He had to make tough calls sometimes.

Still, there was just something jarring about the old man, with his twinkling eyes and cold strategic moves. Sirius, for all that he himself was sometimes calculating in a way he didn't like, wasn't fond of it.

He was almost by the Portkey when the thought hit him.

Not telling Dumbledore...It was a risk to take, for sure, and one that would likely lead to trouble, and yet...

Not sharing his information about the traitor close by was the only sure way to find him.

Sirius, hovering by the entrance to the pub, found himself hovering between two rather different paths.

Indecision was dangerous in a war.

 

("Nothing to report, Professor."

Dumbledore's kindly blue eyes were sharp as a knife as he stared right through him, but Sirius didn't so much as squirm.

After a moment of quiet consideration, the old man seemed to revert to his usual cheerful self, dismissing him with a "Very good, Sirius."

The balance had shifted, ever so slightly.)

 

\--

Halfway through January, Sirius' secrecy paid off.

The street he was crossing this time was filled to the brim with bustling crowds loudly conversing, but the situation was naggingly familiar.

Solo missions were growing almost suicidal, but there were few Order members that didn't have a spouse or family at home that could afford going on them, so it befell Sirius to accomplish them.

No surprise attacks this time, thankfully- it had been an assault mission, and Sirius was grimly satisfied, still hearing the Death Eater's agonized screams over the laughing Muggles.

His resolve kept failing him. His determination to find and annihilate the traitor was strong, but not telling the others was painful.

It wasn't the Order he worried about, of course; he'd gotten over that soon enough. Not telling James, Lily, Peter, Remus, _that_ was what was keeping him anxious. _Logically_ , it was the right thing to do.

And yet, a part of him hissed, it also meant that whether he liked it or not, he didn't quite trust them wholly.

It gnawed at him, but he'd held on to his secret, gritting his teeth through the guilt.

He'd been narrowing his list- this was almost as bad as the secrecy, because the remaining names were too familiar.

He _needed_ to know, but he didn't _want_ to. Quite the moral dilemma.

The New Year had come and gone with its new births and deaths.

Alice Longbottom had called Lily in a panic the other day- pregnant at barely twenty, especially in these times, wasn't the easiest of things.

And of course, Order members and their families had dropped by their hundreds. Not to mention the civilian casualties.

Grim-visaged war indeed.

Still, life wasn't all that bad. He had James, and Lils, and Remus, and Peter. The Order. Hope.

The others, for lack of better knowledge, had attributed his recent broody attitude to the huge fight they'd had mid-December.

 

Sirius wasn't fond of raging battles, obviously, but there was something to be said for those that didn't include close family members.

He was sick of all the sympathetic or suspicious glances thrown his way after encounters with the Blacks- he suspected he might even prefer the latter to the pitying ones.

Still, he'd even take other people's reactions over actually fighting them. Fighting the Malfoys often resulted in a lot of sneering racism from Lucius et co, but it was fighting Bellatrix that made Sirius (ironically) fall back to his roots and desperately itch for an Unforgivable.

The cruel, taunting insanity on his cousin's part was too cold, too clever to be true madness, and Bellatrix was a constant reminder of where Sirius had come from, who he could've been (still was).

He wanted Bellatrix dead almost more than he wanted Riddle gone. Voldemort.

Regulus was the worst. He'd never directly encountered him, or not that he knew of, at least, but sometimes, in the flick of a wrist or the shout of a spell, he found his younger brother on the other side of the battlefield.

The others didn't want to upset him by mentioning it, and Sirius point blank refused to talk about it.

Whatever Regulus Black was these days, it wasn't his brother. (And if he sometimes desperately prayed for him to see sense, well, that was for him alone to know.)

He'd had a moment of terrified panic today, suddenly certain that one of the Death Eaters behind him was Regulus.

It had taken a lot to send a golden flash of light his way, and Sirius would be lying if he said he hadn't taken a moment to look at the man's face under the mask.

Same youthful features. Same dark hair. Not Regulus.

 

He had a bit of a limp as he walked up the steps to Pendragon Alley, having struggled with a paralyzing spell earlier. As such, he paused at the top of them to catch his breath, sparing a moment to look down at the Muggles below.

All were chattering obliviously, on their way home, and looking at them Sirius was suddenly fiercely glad that none of them had ever known a war.

Dundee, Scotland might not have been the biggest town in the country, but there were a lot of suspected Death Eater activities in the area.

Sirius had been meant to return to Edinburgh immediately, but for one reason or another had decided to take a detour. He knew a nice bookshop in the area, picked up a few things for Lily and Moony.

Shaking the bookbag a little as if to check for his purchases, Sirius turned back to the street, ready to march on to his final destination ("abandoned" fish and chips shop on 12th, where he'd get some Floo powder).

He'd barely turned the corner when he spotted Peter.

 

"Wormtail?"

Peter did a full-body twitch, jumping around in surprise.

Upon spotting Sirius, his expression flickered for an instant before settling on curiosity. "Sirius? What are you doing here?"

Sirius laughed at his naively bewildered expression, ruffling his hair. "On my way back from the mission- figured I'd stop by."

"You're heading back to Edinburgh, right? We can go together." Peter said, escaping the hair ruffle.

"Sure," Sirius begun, before hesitating. Something was nagging at him. "Peter, what were you doing in Dundee?"

"I wanted to look around. I've been stuck in Edinburgh all week." Peter said, morosely.

Sirius grinned, reassured, opened his mouth to crack a joke, and froze. "Pete, aren't you supposed to be watching HQ today?"

"Uh, well, originally, but they changed the plan." Peter answered, frowning as if confused.

"No, they didn't." Sirius started, slowly. "I remember because- I went back after the meeting on Sunday, and..." He paused, trying to recall the moment. "...I'd forgotten my map, and I hear you talking to Moody, and you were asking about today, and he said everyone else was out on a mission so you had to stay."

With a frown, Sirius turned towards his blonde companion, puzzled. "Pete, what's this all about?"

Peter looked nervous. "Oh, don't be mad...I wanted to go out so badly..."

A cold rush went down Sirius' neck. "Are you telling me you left HQ unmanned?"

Peter seemed to shrink into himself. "I've only been gone twenty minutes, honestly, I was about to head back-"

"Are you fucking insane?" Sirius interrupted, incredulous anger flowing through him. "Peter, we're in a bloody war, in case you hadn't realized! You could get thousands of people killed!"

"I know, I know, I'm sorry-" Peter whimpered, ashamed and pleading.

"Merlin-" Sirius huffed, running a hand through his hair. "Come on, you dumb bastard, we have to get back before someone else notices and murders you."

Peter nodded rapidly, and they practically sprinted to the shop, Sirius still shell-shocked from Peter's stupidity.

He hadn't expected this one- although they'd often teased Peter about not being the brightest academically speaking, he was shrewd enough, usually. Leaving the HQ like that, early in the evening- it was, what, seven? Half seven? A bit before eight, anyhow.

This was so mind-blowingly stupid, it was like Peter _wanted_ someone to walk in.

Sirius froze in front of the door.

That, or he was sure no one would.

 

"Pete," he managed, slowly, hand hovering above the handle. "What were you doing in Dundee?"

"I told you!" Peter exclaimed, guiltily. "I just wanted out a little."

It was all very Peter- too much so.

"Peter," Sirius repeated, blood pounding in his head, feeling like the world was about to collapse around him. "What were you doing in Dundee?"

"I told you!" Peter replied, bemused, but there was a flash of anxiety in his eyes that felt more real than any of the previous ones.

A lot of suspected Death Eater activities in the area, Sirius thought.

_A lot of suspected Death Eater activities in the area._

"What were you doing? What were you doing, Wormtail?"

For a milisecond, Peter's hand twitched to his side.

Sirius' eyes followed it, and then he jerked backwards. “You’re the traitor. _You_!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Peter yelped, holding his hands up.

“Then why were you about to curse me?”

“I wasn’t- you’re just not making any sense, I thought-”

“How stupid do you think I am?” Sirius snarled, cutting him off. “Everything you’ve been doing- it’s been so obvious…” His mind was racing to piece things together, now that the missing puzzle piece had been found. So many people, recently, so many lives lost…

“You’re crazy! I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Peter exclaimed.

Sirius reeled backwards like he’d been burnt. (The McMiller family, three days ago, killed at the safe house that Peter had suggested back at Halloween.)

“You FUCKING SON OF A BITCH!"

Peter seemed to sag, eyes turning desperate, pleading. "Sirius, no, you don't understand-"

Sirius felt like he was going to puke, shaking his head. Impossible. Impossible.

"How long, Peter?! HOW LONG?”

It was only then that Peter seemed to realise he wasn’t going to be able to change his mind.

"A-almost a year now, Sirius, please-"

Peter's hand reached for him yet again, and Sirius recoiled violently, dropping his bag.

"Don't you dare touch me, you _filth_. Don't you fucking dare." Sirius spat out, in waves of enraged betrayal.

Wormtail, whom he'd looked out for for eight years now. Wormtail, whom they'd spent every hour of the day with for all their Hogwarts years. Wormtail, that Remus had spent countless hours with to help pass his exams, that James had defended fiercely against bullies, that Sirius had taught how to polka.

Their best friend, their best mate.

"I was scared, Padfoot, you don't understand, I'm not brave like you and James and Remus-" Peter tried. Sirius choked on words, so he pushed on: "-They got to me, I'm so sorry, please help me get away from them, Sirius, please-"

For a moment, he was the pudgy eleven year old that had worshipped the ground James and Sirius had walked on, and Sirius's resolve flickered.

The revelation hit him then that Peter had always sided with the strongest.

"How many people have you killed, Peter?! How many lives taken? You're a traitor, and a murderer, and a back-stabbing, cowardly cunt!" Sirius practically roared, beside himself. All the dead were flashing through his mind, whispering Peter's name- how many had died because of him, because of the rat?

"Sirius-" Peter begged, teary-eyed.

It might've worked on James.

"I hope you suffer when you're in Azkaban." Sirius snapped, holding his wand out.

The shorter man's pale eyes followed the movement, and a transformation occurred under his eyes, as Peter went from sniveling to determined.

"Sorry, Sirius. I didn’t want this to happen.”

Sirius growled, and lunged at him with a bright flash of Incendio. (It wasn't clean fighting, but he needed to hurt.)

Peter twisted out of the way, and then a blur of green whizzed by Sirius' ear.

_Avada Kedavra._

Sirius saw red.

 

The fight escalated from there, as they exchanged increasingly rapid spells, Muggles screaming around them as the street grew ravaged by fire and explosions.

Both were intensely focused, Peter's beady little eyes squinting in concentration, whilst Sirius' hair whipped around him, his teeth bared in a snarl.

Sirius was fighting messily, savagely, with a brute magical force he wasn't used to, but his advances were short-lived. What a marvellous actor Peter was.

Amidst the screams and shouts and flashes of light, Sirius instinctively felt a spell near him, jumping aside to avoid it.

It him in the arm, hard, with an agonising burn. Cursing at the blackened tint of his skin, he stumbled upright.

He recognised that spell. A family of four had been killed by it three weeks prior.

White-hot, blinding rage overtook him, and he found himself barreling forward, cutting through Peter's curses as though they were mere air, coming close enough to see the naked fear paint itself on his face.

Good, screamed a voice in his head. Good. Feast on his fear. Make him suffer.

With a last, decisive "Repulso!" Peter was slammed into a wall, collapsing beneath it as Sirius ran to him.

Peter had barely struggled upright when Sirius had his wand pointing unwaveringly at his throat.

"Did you forget who talked you through D.A.D.A in your N.E.W.T.s, Peter?" His voice echoed mockingly through the now silent street.

Peter eyed the wand fearfully, changing tactics once more, his nose twitching. "Sirius, don't- You wouldn't forgive yourself-"

"You seem to have gotten over your guilt soon enough." Sirius interrupted, voice shaking with cold anger.

Peter swallowed, then hissed: "I know things, I can help the Order, Dumbledore would want-"

"No one wants a traitor.” Sirius' eyes hardened, wrist flicking reflexively.

"I know things about- your brother! Regulus!" Peter cried, turning his face away from the wand.

Sirius wavered, caught off guard. "I know lots of things," Peter pressed, eagerly. "I know a few missions he's been on, where he's going- you could get him out, Sirius, you could save your brother."

His words, growing soft by the end of the sentence, rang persuasively through the deserted alley, catching Sirius off guard for just long enough.

Suddenly, in a burst of light, he found himself flung to the ground, excruciating pain in his every nerve.

"Sorry, Sirius." Peter said, apologetic, nervous. "I told you I couldn't let you leave."

 

(In fourth year, once, Professor McGonnagal had found Sirius in the Owlery, perched high up, head buried in his arms. He'd been skipping class, figured she'd be mad.

Instead, the witch had gestured to the steadily floating racks behind him and commented dryly: "Well, say what you want about the aristocracy, but that's a rather ridiculous amount of raw power for a fourteen year old."

When Sirius had passed the silent spell task with flying colours, in seventh year, he'd shot her a grin that he swore she'd returned.)

 

He concentrated all his fury on that, now- getting away, breaking the curse. _Finite Incantatem. Finite Incantatem._

Amidst the haze of pain, suddenly, relief came.

Raising himself on trembling knees, the dark-haired wizard spotted his wand lying a mere foot away.

Peter's wand was pointed at him just as he reached for his own.

"You can't use an Unforgivable, Sirius, just let it go."

Sirius watched him silently.

Peter advanced, cautiously, something a bit cruel in his tone as he continued: "It's against the Order's values. And you'd be disappointing James."

He said the last part almost tauntingly. Sirius wondered just how much of Peter Pettigrew had been a lie.

And then he stood up, clenching his jaw, leaving the wand behind.

"You won't get away with it." Sirius spat, as a satisfied relief visibly swept over Peter.

"I'm sorry, Sirius." Peter said. "I would Obliviate you, but you're too good at Occlumency. I'll tell the others you died a hero."

He was approaching slowly, as Sirius shook with hatred.

Peter raised his wand, opened his mouth.

In the split second he did so, Sirius flung himself at him.

 

 

They both went down heavily, slamming against the rubble hard enough for the ground to shake underneath them.

The spell went flying over them, and there was a blur of movement as Sirius got his hand around Peter's throat, clenching it firmly.

Peter's eyed bulged, but even as he tried to wrench the wand upwards, Sirius twisted his leg to bring his heavy metal-soled boot down on his hand.

There was a satisfying crushing noise, and Peter howled in pain as Sirius panted.

"I'm not James, unfortunately for you." Sirius hissed lowly, watching Peter struggle with a darkly pleased feeling.

"Sirius- you wouldn't- I-" Peter tried.

"Shut your fucking mouth. It's over." Sirius cut him off, pressing harder.

He could see it unfold- the crack of bones, the agonized gulps for air, the silent screams.

The thought pleased him, which in turn repulsed him. He was no Bellatrix, wouldn't allow himself to be no matter how his entire body screamed for revenge.

He loosened the pressure slightly as Peter gagged, reaching down for his wand.

"Your turn to be betrayed."

Peter shivered weakly. "It's an Unforgivable- you wouldn't, Sirius-"

 

Wands chose their owners. Sirius couldn't imagine why any wand would choose Peter Pettigrew, but holding it, it was clear the wand had chosen a new master.

Perhaps it sensed that Peter's demise was near, Sirius mused grimly. Or perhaps the sheer intensity of Sirius' intentions had conquered Peter's hold over the wand.

Peter was in tears now, pleading desperately: "Padfoot, please, I'm begging you, I'll do anything, please-"

"Rot in hell, you pathetic murderous rat." Sirius grit out, and then, with a decisive shout: “ _Avada Kedavra_!”

Peter screamed, but it was too late- a bright, cold light burst out of the wand, illuminating the street with green, and his screams cut off abruptly.

Sirius let the wand drop.

In the sudden silence, it sounded like a clap of thunder as it hit the street.

 

Peter was dead.

His eyes were wet with terrified tears, face twisted unbecomingly with fear. He looked bizarrely surreal. For a moment, Sirius imagined that another Peter would walk up, a real Peter, and be startled by the impostor.

His ears were ringing.

His hand, he saw now, was still gripping Peter’s neck- so tightly that he had dug his nails into the skin.

The skin of a corpse.

The thought spurred him into action, and he jerked backwards, understanding the reality of the situation. He had been wounded without registering it; the black gaping maw on his arm was sticky and bubbling like rotten fruit, and there were large gashes on his chest, bright red turned copper.

He stood up in a rapid gesture that almost knocked him over. The cuts on his chest had lost more blood than he’d thought, and the Cruciatus Curse’s effects were still potent.

He knew all this with a sort of clinical detachment. It was as though by killing Peter he had also killed himself, and was now but the hollow corpse of Sirius Black, idly standing above his victim.

He stood there blankly for a moment, examining his arms and then his hands.

And then his eye caught on to red underneath his nails; blood from Peter’s body. Sirius jolted awake, folding in half and retching in revulsion. He took a panicked gulp of air, shaking his hands frantically as though to rid them of the blood, eyes flicking around the street.

They caught on to his wand, and he stumbled towards it, grasping it with shaking hands. His first attempts at casting a spell were dismal: his throat wasn’t working, and he could only manage strangled coughs.

He practically screamed “Aguamenti!” and the water finally burst out of the wand, sending a veritable jet to douse his hand. He rubbed them together hurriedly, scrubbing furiously at his nails.

He had to get it off, get it away- the filthy blood of a disgusting traitor, the old friend that he had killed. Leaving it would be to poison his very soul, he knew.

He felt tainted, as though revealing Peter’s true nature had somehow affected him morally- the Aguamenti spell, from his own wand, felt light and pure as he cast it, contrasted by the unfeeling accuracy he’d used Avada Kedavra with.

 

The wail of a siren reached his ears, and Sirius whirled around. The Muggles from earlier were standing by the edge of the street, pointing and muttering with tangible fear in their eyes.

“Shite,” Sirius said, out loud. “ _Obliviate_.”

It wouldn’t be enough, obviously; a number of the earlier spectators hadn’t returned, but it would make the mess easier to clean up.

Holding his wand between his teeth, he gingerly grabbed Peter’s corpse by the hair, dragging him after him towards the shop. The wailing of sirens was getting closer now, as well as the murmuring crowd.

He grabbed the handle with sweaty, grimy hands, swearing when he missed, and casting a quick Alahomora.

Sirius shouldered the door open, yanking Peter inside, before running back to pick up the dead man’s wand.

He couldn’t touch it, resorting to levitating it behind him as he ran back in and slammed the door shut behind them.

 

The police had arrived, cars screeching to a halt at the top of the alley.

Sirius bit his lip hard enough to bleed and dragged Peter to the back of the store.

They were leaving a trail of blood behind.

“Shite, shite, shite.” Sirius muttered. He had to get rid of the evidence.

Dumping Peter’s body next to the chimney and floating his wand into his pocket, he cast a vaguely panicked Scourgify.

The blood vanished, as did half the dirt in the shop.

 

The police were at the door now.

“Bloody bastards.” Sirius hissed, hauling Peter into the chimney, mindless of the way his head lolled forwards.

The Floo Powder was hidden behind a cracked flowerpot, and he reached for it with trembling hands, heart beating a rapid tattoo as he clambered into the fireplace, shoving his wand into his back pocket.

The front door crashed open, and Sirius grabbed Peter by the collar, throwing the powder over them both and declaring “Castle Rock, Edinburgh!” as clearly as he could.

Bright green flames engulfed them just as the first officer ran into the room.

 

—

When he was back on his feet again, Sirius found himself crouching inside the darkened fireplaces of Edinburgh Castle.

The panic receded immediately, and he let himself slump against the cold stone walls inside the chimney.

Merlin. That had been way too close.

Well, the Ministry could handle clearing it up.

Muggles didn’t like the supernatural, anyway- the handful of street-goers who’d seen him would likely be dismissed as nutters, especially seeing as some of them had completely forgotten about him already.

The wrecked street would be more difficult to explain, but the Muggles would manage. Terrorist attack, or something. Bombs.

The police would spin up a nice cover-up tale to avoid the stain on their reputation.

A maniac and a corpse could only go so far, after all- how were they meant to track a man who vanished into thin air?

He was lucky none of them had actually seen him vanish into thin air. That would’ve been a tad harder to manage.

Still, with Voldemort’s genocidal ways, it wasn’t as though the Muggles were unused to strange deaths, recently.

Their governments just explained it differently.

 

 

Unfortunately, once his panic had receded, the events finally sank in; his mind now devoid of worry and therefore an easy prey.

He’d murdered Peter.

He’d used the Avada Kedavra- he’d used an Unforgivable on someone he’d considered a brother.

And he’d done so because Peter had been the traitor.

Peter had changed sides.

Peter, whom he’d loved and protected and would’ve died for, had instead died by his hands, because he’d been a disgusting, pathetic coward, whose own life mattered to him more than the lives of innocents.

Than the lives of those closest to him.

So many deaths… How many of them had Peter helped orchestrate? How many friends of theirs had Wormtail pretended to grieve for, knowing full-well that he had helped to kill?

Sirius’ eyes were getting blurry, he noticed. Tears of guilt and rage were on the verge of spilling down his cheeks- and his injuries weren’t getting any better.

 

He ducked and climbed out of the fireplace, reeling backwards when the pain hit him.

He’d been numbed by disbelief, then running on adrenalin: now, his wounds were burning at him, and he finally registered how blood-soaked his clothes were.

Sirius poked gingerly at the bubbling black rip in his arm, thoughts of death awakening in him as he bit back an agonised shout.

He was gravely injured- what if he died, now, in this room?

It would take until evening for Order members to arrive, and they’d find his corpse and Peter’s lying side by side.

What if they got it wrong? It was fully possible that they would never discover the real story- they might think Sirius and Peter had been killed upon their arrival.

They might check their wands, and think Peter the hero and Sirius the traitor.

The thought horrified him with a violence that made him want to throw up.

Instead, he took a determined, slow breath, tugging his wand out and firmly ignoring his injuries. “ _Accio._ ”

It would come, he knew. He hadn’t left it very far.

He took another steadying breath.

Step by step. One thing at a time.

Peter’s corpse had grown stiff, rigor mortis beginning to set in.

His eyes and jaw were both oddly rigid.

Sirius forced himself to look at him as he pulled him over to the window, to take in all the smallest details of Peter Pettigrew’s dead body, to engrave the face of his victim forever.

Peter’s hair was mousy and ruffled, and his cheeks conserved their chub even now, so reminiscent of the eleven-year old he had been. Everything about him seemed to have had the colour sucked away. His clothes were drab, robes now caked in dirt and dust that also covered his hair from where he’d been dragged around. All the scratches he had seemed unnaturally bright against his pallid skin, the vivid purple bruises on his neck like a necklace.

Peter’s face, never the most attractive, now held something of the grotesque. His features, contorted both by fear and by death’s steady grip, were pulled in an eternal mask of terror, so powerful it seemed the corpse would come alive just to scream. His tearful, pale eyes, pitiful as they would’ve looked, only stirred the blackest, most vindictive joy in Sirius’ heart.

A wave of nausea hit him again, and he tore his eyes away to look at the dark red still spreading across his robes, like a blood-thirsty creature crawling up his torso.

He was being almost masochistic in refusing to heal his wounds until now, punishment for a crime he didn’t want to regret.

Peter had deserved death.

Peter, in fact, had deserved a fate far worse than death.

With that in mind, Sirius allowed himself to pull out the small, Order mandated bottle of pain-relieving potion he had in his pocket, and gulp it up with increasing ferocity.

His mind felt a thousand times clearer as the potion burned at his insides, a renewed focus to his thoughts.

He’d barely shoved the empty bottle back into his pocket, swearing when his dirty, blood-soaked fingers almost let it fall, when his bike came crashing through the glass windows.

 

His reflexes reacted for him, a _Protego!_ ripping itself from his throat before he’d even managed to think about it.

The bike bounced off it and onto the floor, thousands of shards of glass falling around it harmlessly as the shield flickered and vanished.

Sirius’ arm fell back down, his heart thudding.

Shite, but he was out of it...

The noise would’ve alerted someone.

He had to work quickly.

Physically grabbing Peter and toppling him into the sidecar felt like blasphemy; his prized possession tarnished by the repellent corpse of a disgusting man, but Sirius did it anyway, firmly pushing down the complaints from his body and mind alike.

He really was losing a lot of blood. He’d have to hurry.

 

Swinging his leg over the side of his bike and adjusting himself came as a relief.

The familiar metal and leather was a welcome escape from the surreal day, and Sirius almost felt his balance restored as his fingers gripped the handle-bars.

He turned the motorbike around slowly, closing his eyes and letting the growling hum of the engine reassure him.

When he was facing the window, he exhaled slowly, before giving the bike a sharp rev, propelling them out of the room and into the air outside, wind cutting at his hypersensitive skin in a painfully welcome way.

He stopped it rapidly to cast a quick _Reparo_ on the window, and then sped off into the darkening skies, letting the looming castle fade into the distance as he soared over the city.

 

One of Sirius’ very favourite things in life was this; the exhilarating rush of flying, the wind whistling in his ears and making his hair whip around his face, his steady grip on the handles and the glinting light from the bike shining brightly in the night sky.

Even now, as his strength failed him and the sharp sting of his emotions burnt deep within him, he breathed more easily up where the air thinned.

James loved flying as much as he did, but James preferred the broom, a more intimate connection with the heights.

Sirius preferred the solid build of his bike, roaring and humming and growling like a wild beast, master of the skies, an Alexander there where he could never be conqueror.

Sirius had never been afraid of flying too high, rather of falling too low.

 

Night had fallen, a dusky darkness wrapping itself around him as he sped ahead.

He needed to leave Edinburgh, go somewhere safe- the Order’s HQ in Scotland, maybe, but even then he wasn’t sure they’d believe him.

No, he’d go to James and Lily’s, even if it killed him. They’d understand. They had to.

Sirius grit his teeth and hunched forwards on the bike.

He’d been tweaking around with it, a while back.

Now was as good a time as any to test some of his additions.

 

\--

Far below him, in a misty valley, two girls sat on with their legs dangling over the edge of the clocktower, silently contemplating the mysteries of life.

“Liv,” one started, rubbing incredulously at her black eye, “There’s a bloke on a feckin’ bike. Flying.”

“Don’t be a tosser, Em.” Liv groaned, not looking up from picking at a hole in her tights.

“Orright, well, if you’re not going to listen-”

Liv made sharp noise of protest as her head was wrenched upwards, before her remonstrances died on her lips.

“Feck _off_ …”

“Told you.”

The bike wasn’t flying very far off, and it was coming closer to the church.

There was a bloke sitting on it, with dark hair waving like a flag around his head, expression strangely thoughtful for a man flying on a motorbike.

“It’d be weird if he weren’t, though.” Liv mused, when Em had voiced her thoughts. “If it’d been someone else, it’d be right strange, but he fits it pretty well, I reckon.”

Em nodded in agreement.

The man did fit the image- he looked perfectly at ease on this magical motorbike, seemingly unaffected by the glowing orange flames behind him, making it seem like the most normal thing in the world.

“He’s not half bad looking, for a wizard bloke.” Liv noted, as he drew ever closer.

“For a regular bloke either.”

They snorted.

When the bike was close enough for the humming to turn to roaring, Em got up and cupped her hands around her mouth.

“Have you lost your wits? He’s some kind of wizard bloke!” Liv hissed, without really doing anything to stop her.

“Yeah, but he’s a fit wizard bloke, and sides he looks decent to me.” Em responded, before hollering: “Oi! Wizard bloke!”

The man’s head snapped up, eyes jumping to them, and the bike came to a screeching halt.

For a moment, both girls half-expected it to plummet down to the ground, but it remained, hovering in the air as its owner stared at them.

“What are you two doing up here in the middle of the night?” Wizard bloke asked, looking more surprised than anything else.

“Oh, he’s real posh, inne? Reckon he’s some kinda toff?” Em whispered, before turning back to him. “We come here every night, love. What are you doing on a flying bike, then?”

Wizard bloke looked down at the bike, eyes lingering on a lumpy thing in the side-car before shrugging casually. “Going for a ride.”

 

The girls hooted, delighted.

“Going for a ride, he says! You go for rides a lot, then?” Liv asked, finally speaking up.

“Every night, love.” Wizard bloke repeated, in a fair imitation of their accent.

“He’s a funny one, this one!” Em exclaimed. “You some kinda wizard toff, then?”

Wizard bloke blinked, then gave a startled grin. “You could say that, yeah.”

“Orright, he’s a real looker.” Liv muttered, as Em nodded emphatically.

“Where you off to, then? Wizard toff school?”

“I’ve graduated, actually.” Wizard bloke replied, before giving them a wink. “I’m off to London.”

“That’s not half far!” Em said, wide-eyed. “Ain’t it going to take you ages?”

“I’ve come from Edinburgh, actually. Been flying about two hours.” Wizard bloke answered, with half a smile.

“Feck off!” Liv gasped, incredulous. “You’re joking!”

“Wizards are nutters.” Em added, shaking her head.

Wizard bloke laughed, a bark of a laugh that made his eyes sparkle in the starlight. “That we are.”

(“You think that’s some magic too?” Em whispered, kicking Liv in the shin. “Nah. ’S just that movie-star-ish on his own.”)

“Any other night, I’d be delighted to stay and chat, but I’m afraid I really have to go.” Wizard bloke sighed, wincing a little. “Urgent matters.”

“Hang on a mo’- ’s that blood on you?” Liv asked, sharply.

Wizard bloke grimaced. “Hence the word urgent.”

“Shite, can’t we patch that up for you?”

“Wizard injury, I’m afraid. Won’t do me much good.”

“Did you get it in a wizard fight?”

“I did.”

 

The two girls fell silent for a moment, contemplating this, and then Em spoke up: “So what’s the other bloke look like?”

Wizard bloke stiffened, and then, with a dead-pan expression: “His body’s in this sidecar.”

The girls laughed. “Well, bye bye then, wizard bloke. Send us a postcard from London.” Em said with a grin.

“It’d help if I knew your names.” Wizard bloke reminded. “And maybe also where we are.”

“I’m Em, and she’s Liv. This is Cheshire.”

“Shite, Cheshire? That’s near Liverpool isn’t it?” Wizard bloke muttered. “I’ve been veering off course.”

“What’s your name, then? Merlin?” Liv asked, scratching at her knee yet again.

“Sirius, actually.” Wizard bloke said, very seriously.

“Your name’s really Sirius?” Em questioned, snickering. “You’re having us on, aren’t you?”

“Sirius Black, _pour vous servire_ ,” Wizard bloke replied, with a little bow of the head.

“Ooh, french. You _are_ a real toff, ain’t you?” Liv said, delighted.

“Worst of the worst.” Sirius agreed, before giving them a considering look. “You two won’t go telling anyone about our nocturnal encounter, will you?”

“Are you mad?” Em crowed, laughing. “They’d think we was smashed, or right nutters.”

“Not to mention my ma would have my hide if she heard I were talking to strange men in the middle of the night.” Liv snorted.

“It’s not the men she aught to worry about, love.” Em replied, snickering. Liv elbowed her in the knees, almost making her drop off the ledge.

“Good to know.” Sirius said, amused. “Any final requests before I go?”

“Ooh, yeah, can you show us a magic trick?” Em begged, eagerly.

“Can do.” Sirius answered, pulling a stick out of his pocket.

“Well, feck me. A real wizard wand.” Liv breathed, eyebrows raised.

“I’m very good with my wand.” Sirius grinned, before twirling it. “I’m guessing you’ve got a broken finger to match the black eye?”

Em nodded, wriggling her hand to show the three fractured bones.

“Hold still.” Sirius warned. “ _Episkey_!”

A whooshing noise followed, and then Em yelped in surprise as the sound of crackling bones reached their ears.

It lasted only an instant, and then a slow, shocked smile spread across her face.

“Feckin’ wizards.”

Liv grabbed her hand, wiggling the fingers one by one. “You fixed the bones!”

“It was only a minor injury.” Sirius shrugged, looking well pleased with himself.

“Minor? Oh, can you imagine Jess’ face when I show up with healed bones?” Em hooted, waving her hand in the air. “The bloody cow won’t know what hit her!”

Sirius snorted, approvingly, before turning to Liv. “All right, last one- you got a small object on you?”

“I got this necklace?”

“Better not be something you’re attached to.”

“Oh, no, it’s a real piece of junk. My old bloke gave it to me ages ago.” Liv shrugged, holding the necklace out.

“All right, then. _Avifors_!” This time, a pale light shot out from the wand, illuminating the necklace.

Next thing they knew, the cheap stone had vanished, replaced by a small, vaguely shimmering bird.

“No way…” Liv gaped, open-mouthed, as the bird hopped around on her hand. “You’re outta this world, wizard bloke.”

“It’s yours to keep.” Sirius laughed, putting the wand away. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m busy bleeding out slowly on my seat, so…”

“Ta!” Em exclaimed, waving. “Send us that postcard!”

“Will do. Come to London sometime!”

 

As the two waved, the bike came to life with a mighty roar, a veritable fiery explosion blasting it off into the darkness.

The girls watched him go, silent.

“Sorta makes you wish there were more wizard blokes around, don’t he?” Em sighed, after a moment.

“Sure does,” Liv agreed, looking at the gleaming bird. “Sure does.”

 

——

It was a good thing he’d crossed those girls, or he’d have been heading off towards Cardiff, Sirius mused.

Besides, it had woken him up- it really did take a while getting there, even with the dragon fire and other gimmicks, and he felt about to faint.

If he did faint and plummet to his death, he would die again out of sheer embarrassment.

He focused on his burning hatred for Peter to stay awake.

Sirius Black was not a forgiving sort of person.

Not towards himself, nor towards others. Vengeance and loyalty had always been strangely intertwined in the Black doctrine, and if Sirius had inherited two of his House’s values, it would have to be those.

It had taken some effort to merge the two Peters in his mind- Peter, his best friend, and Peter the traitor.

Once he’d managed (or sort of managed, really, it still overwhelmed him), though, the effort had been to avoid ripping Peter’s organs out and tearing him apart slowly and painfully.

Avada Kedavra had been a mercy of sorts, ironically. Had he no moral compass, Sirius would certainly not have stooped so low as to allow Peter an escape from the pain he wanted to inflict upon him.

 

What had Peter promised? Who had he sold? Who was he preparing to sell?

There was that prophecy Dumbledore had hinted at, that might be concerning James and Lily’s future child- Voldemort wanted the Chosen One dead, perhaps Peter had offered…

For a moment, Sirius seriously considered grabbing a blunt knife and mutilating the body lying next to him.

He wouldn’t give in, just yet.

Peter had died a coward, and it needed to show.

He wished, suddenly, he could take his face and project in the skies. _This snivelling rat betrayed his friends and his morals to save his own hide. He died swiftly and quietly, unlike the agony his victims went through. Join us in celebrating his death._

 

He’d killed Peter, though.

 _He_ ’d killed him. With intent.

It had not been an accident. It hadn’t even been self-defence.

Sirius had gazed down at his erstwhile friend and calmly used an Unforgivable on him, with the sole intent of watching the life drain out of him with one swift flick of the wrist.

It was rather funny, he supposed. His whole body seemed to be disgusted by his actions, bleeding and protesting in pain, while his heart beat too fast and his throat felt too tight. His mind, however, was calm; bitterly content.

“You just killed Peter!” his body cried, tainted with the blood of someone he’d called brother not three days ago.

“Good.” his mind snapped, watching the corpse. “Good.”

Sirius willed his bike to go faster.

 

——

It was around one in the morning that he found himself by James and Lily’s house, letting the bike come to a screeching halt in front of it.

He’d stopped to heal his wounds twice, but he felt completely out of it regardless: his thoughts had become a jumbled mess, only the strong sense of urgency remaining.

Shite, but this had been a hellish day.

He clambered off the bike with stiff, unsteady legs, grimacing distantly at the blood that came dripping out of his wounds almost immediately.

Peter’s body was tinted purple, now.

He had to get to James and Lily. Had to tell them. Had to make them understand.

His hands shaking with convulsions, Sirius battered on the door with all the strength he could muster, croaking out a “Hey!” that turned into incomprehensible shouts after a minute or so.

It only took a couple of minutes for the lights to flicker on, and for the creak of stairs to reach his ears.

Peter was dead, and he’d killed him, and James and Lily were awake and alive and he had to tell them.

Feverishly, Sirius muttered half a curse and half a prayer under his breath, before slamming the door open with a ferocity that almost threw it off its hinges.

 

James and Lily stood there at the bottom of the staircase, in their pyjamas, their wands out, alert eyes and tense bodies belying their sleep-ruffled hair.

“James,” Sirius tried, vision beginning to blur out of the blue. “James.”

Lily’s eyes shot over his shoulder, scanning the outside and flicking back to the blood he was only barely aware of.

James’ eyes, however, remained fixed on his face, brow creased in alarmed worry.

“I just killed Peter.” Sirius told them, and watched their world collapse.

 


	2. The Veritaserum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth is not an easy thing to share, and friendships are fragile things spun from trust and days long gone. Sirius is despondent, James is devastated, and Lily has no choice but to pull herself together.
> 
> A war is going in on outside the Potter residence, and they have let it into their home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two! Sorry for the delay- busy with studies, as we can all relate to, I suspect. 
> 
> Still, here is the second instalment, which you will note to be rather shorter than the first; the reason for this being that I originally wrote it all as one big scene on my phone, and realised upon transferring it to my computer it was only 4k long. By my Victor Hugo-esque standards, this was obviously unacceptable, so I slaved over it to add 2k. Other chapters will probably vary in length, but I suspect this one is a special case, as it literally is only one long scene.

Chapter One: The Veritaserum 

 

“ _The truth is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with caution._ ” -JK Rowling, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone

 

—

_"You didn't trust us." James was saying now, more quietly, more angrily. "You didn't trust us." There was an awful mocking tone to it, and Lily opened her mouth to snap at him-_

_"Of course I fucking trusted you!" Sirius shouted, eyes blazing, the outburst oddly reassuring. "You know who else I trusted, with my life? Wormtail!"_

_James froze, and Lily felt an imaginary knife dig into her heart._

 

—

There was a crucial difference between James and Sirius and JamesAndSirius.

Lily Evans-Potter was not a stupid girl, and so knew this rather well.

Lily Evans-Potter had also spent nine years knowing Sirius and James, and so figured that even the most obtuse of idiots would know this equally well.

The concept was not a new one, and had never been a cause of worry for her.

James had crushed on Lily since fifth year, and been in love with her since sixth. Lily did not need reassuring that James and Lily were a solid thing.

She was also, however, at least ninety percent sure that if _Lily and James_ balanced out Sirius and James, JamesAndLily would never outweigh JamesAndSirius.

This did not bother Lily.

She freely admitted she loved James more than anything (and a good thing too, since they'd been married for a year now), and she'd admit under duress that Sirius Black was sort of bearable sometimes (she loved him, really). Loving one inevitably meant at least accepting the other.

Lily knew James loved her a truly staggering amount, and that was all she needed. James Potter, as much as it pained her younger self to admit, had enough love in his heart to love a thousand people.

Still, in moments like these, the difference between the individual existences of James and Sirius and the collective bond of JamesAndSirius really struck her.

" _I just killed Peter_." Sirius said, and after the initial shock and horror and disbelief, Lily couldn't help but grip her wand more tightly and eye Sirius.

Sirius had killed _Peter_.

_Sirius_ had killed Peter.

Peter was _dead_.

(How? Why? When?)

Lily loved Sirius.

Lily adored Sirius, to be completely honest.

But as he stood soaked in blood, looking calmly deranged, the picture of a Black, confessing to murder, Lily was scared of him. And  she was prepared to bring him down, if necessary.

(The war had been going on too long for her not to be.)

So she readied her stance, fingers tightening around her wand, and tried not to feel sick as she kept her focus firmly on Sirius, pushing down her panicked thoughts of crying and screaming and demanding explanations.

James' face reflected the same array of rapid emotions as Lily's did, but where Lily raised her wand and steeled herself (there had to be an explanation, there had to, but Lily was no longer an idealistic teenager), James took a different course of action.

All of this- the door, Sirius, the horrified shock, the fear, the pain- had happened in barely a minute.

Sirius' eyes were flitting from her to James, and Lily's arm was raised, and James-

"Shite, Sirius-" James began, eyes on Sirius, breaking the spell. "You're hurt."

And his wand was lowered, and he was rushing to Sirius, his face contorted with urgent worry.

Lily blinked, only now noticing that the blood came from Sirius.

Sirius looked like he was on the verge of blacking out, pained relief flashing through his eyes for a moment as James reached him.

Lily lowered her wand slowly.

Sirius was her best friend, and he was grievously injured, and James trusted him. But Peter had been another best friend of theirs, and Peter had been killed by Sirius, and James trusted almost everyone.

Lily stared into the darkness outside, a torrent of conflicting emotions making it impossible for her to concentrate on her thoughts.

The Order could teach you a great many things, but it couldn’t teach you what choice was the right one in moments like these- where were the courses about betrayal and friendships breaking to pieces? Mary, not a year ago, had been violently strangled in her apartment by one Ravenclaw boy they’d hung out with all of second year, all for standing up to the Death Eaters. You simply had no way of knowing, in a war, how the ones you loved the most fiercely could change.

It was James' voice that brought her back; concerned and scared.

"Shite, Padfoot, stay with me here-Lils!"

Lily awoke with a start, running to them. Sirius had all but collapsed, as James struggled to hold him upright, panic flashing through his features.

Lily took one look at Sirius' drawn face and James' bloodied hands before making up her mind.

No, she wouldn’t let Sirius Black die in her household. Not on her life.

"Go check outside. I'll get him upstairs." James hesitated, gripping Sirius' shoulders tightly as his eyes searched hers, before clenching his jaw and moving away for her to grab Sirius.

It occurred to her as she watched him run outside that he might not have trusted her for that split-second.

 

Lily manoeuvred Sirius up the stairs very slowly, painfully aware of how sticky her hands were getting.

It was blood, all right, dark red blood seeping through his clothes, staining the staircase. Lily hated the sight of bloodied clothes. It reminded her too strongly of one too many friends lying motionless on the floor, eyes glassy and mouth open.

For a moment, she wondered how Peter looked.

The instant the thought entered her head, Lily froze, staring down at her red-tinted hands. She felt like screaming and crying and letting Sirius topple gracelessly down the stairs, but Lily Evans was not the type for emotional breakdowns under pressure.

Instead, she focused on moving him safely upstairs, grateful for his hisses of pain. Without them, he probably wouldn't have been conscious anymore.

A memory hit her, then, of a silly notion she’d had so long ago (a year, maybe two) at the start of the war- upon seeing Sirius actually wounded for the first time, all she could think of was that she’d somehow expected his blood to be blue.

It had been Remus who’d reacted first, shaking himself out of his frozen stupor, and the others had followed. She’d wondered, then, if perhaps they’d all been thinking along the same lines.

When they reached the bed, Sirius crumpled, dropping like a brick. Lily struggled to move him onto it, murmuring aggressive reassurances as she did so. Shite.

Padfoot wasn't the type to show his weakness. He had been hurt badly.

( _No, really?_ a voice sneered in her head, sarcastic. _Genius deduction there, Evans. 10/10 perceptiveness_.)

She'd just gotten him on his back, sleeves rolled up and hair falling in her face, when James came sprinting up the stairs.

He was pale, silent.

"How is he?"

"It's bad." Lily said, straightforward. "We'll have to work fast if we want to-.”

She bit her lip, before whispering: "Outside?"

"Peter's dead." James responded dully. "He's in the side-car. Avada Kedavra."

Lily jumped, casting him a wide-eyed look. "Shite, James.” Her eyes flew to Sirius’ pale figure, noting without wanting to just how close to death he seemed.

What was going on inside his head? What had he done?

"Let's avoid having two corpses in the house, yeah?" James sighed, without looking at her.

On the bed, Sirius shivered.

Lily brushed her hair out of her face, pulling her sleeves back with a newfound determination.

“Let's."

 

—

It took them six frantic hours of using up half of their medical supply and digging up obscure spells they'd learnt back at Hogwarts to mostly heal Sirius.

It was one of the worst experiences of Lily’s life, which was saying something considering her current situation. _Todesangst_ coursed through her at every move she made, chaos in the household as they continued their race against the clock.

She had to pause each time she left the room, eyes holding on to the young man on the bed as if fearing he’d be gone when she returned. Sirius had lost _so much_ blood…

By the time they were done, Lily was on the verge of keeling over.

The deep wounds on his stomach would take a while, but they were closed, and the black maw on his arm was gone, although the skin looked burnt. Stitches and bandages had been applied all over him- Sirius was covered in further bruises, cuts and burns, not to mention mysteriously deep scars  all over his torso.

Lily and James, exhausted, stood watching him, side-by-side next to the bed, swaying on their feet.

"He flew all the way from Edinburgh." Lily said, after a while. "On his bike, that's what, six hours?"

"Around that, yeah." James replied, voice equally croaky.

"He must have lost fucking pints." Lily said, rubbing at her arms, looking at Sirius' unnatural pallor. It had always been a source of amused teasing amongst the lot of them- his “aristocratic purity”, as Remus had sarcastically named it. Now, she had no other desire but to see it disappear.

"Must've wanted to go somewhere he knew was safe." James muttered.

Lily took a look at him. He was almost as pale as Sirius, eyes anguished and hair a wreck (not that that was a change from the norm, she mused wryly).

"He'll be all right, James."

James glanced at her, lost. "How do you know?"

"It's- his wounds are almost healed. It's only logical." Lily answered, shaking her head to clear the images of recent deaths in the Order, of the young and strong and healthy.

"His wounds are closed. We didn't transfer him pints of blood." James snapped, before sagging. “Sorry."

His eyes went to the door. She wondered what Peter looked like.

"It's fine." Lily sighed, before pushing on. "We gave him some blood. Sirius is tough. All that inbreeding has to help with something.” She was not especially convinced by her own spiel, but knew for a fact that James needed to think Sirius would make it.

A James without Sirius did not bear thinking about.

James snorted weakly at the joke, his eyes finally meeting hers. “It- it just wasn’t ever meant to happen to us. And now Peter’s dead, and Sirius is dying, and I don’t- I don’t know. I don’t know what to think anymore.”

It was a terrible thing to see James Potter _doubting_. Lily, at a loss for words, turned to pull him to her, wrapping her arms around his waist. They stood for a moment in silence, James’ head resting on hers, his hands gripping her tightly to him.

Sirius let out a sudden cough, startling them both, and then sat up bolt-straight, clutching wildly at the covers like a drowning man. He looked positively demented.

"Sirius! Calm down!" Lily half-ordered, fully awake yet again as she pulled away from James. Her heart beat a startled tattoo in her chest.

Upon spotting her, Sirius' posture relaxed slowly, and then abruptly he let his head sink to rest on his knees.

"Padfoot. It's okay." Lily repeated, moving to sit cautiously by his side. "It's okay.”

Sirius didn’t react to her presence, so she slowly inched towards him, wary of touching him lest he panic.

"No, it's not." Sirius said, hoarsely. "Peter-"

He stopped abruptly, features clouded. For a moment, Lily thought he might be crying- instead, his head raised defiantly, he shot a dark look at the door.

Lily’s heart skipped a beat, suddenly afraid. Her mind went back to its previous state. _What had Sirius done?_

"Sirius," James begun, tense. "What happened?"

Sirius looked at him, the defiance fading, and faltered. "It- I."

He shook his head, looked down. "I've been hiding something from you."

Lily stiffened, chills running down her spine, eyes glancing towards her wand and James in one quick glance. Both seemed impossibly far away.

"I- I went on a mission, last year. Nothing too unusual, but I realised Dumbledore had sent me as, well. A sort of bait, yeah? And I- it made me see that there was a traitor close to the heart of the Order." Sirius hesitated, eyes fixed on nothing in particular. "To find out who that was, I decided not to tell anyone. Which is why I've been acting odd."

Lily frowned, opening her mouth to speak, trying to follow his train of thought.

"You hid this from us?" James interrupted, loud and pained betrayal in his voice. Sirius flinched. "You didn't fucking tell us about a trai- we could have saved innocent lives, Sirius!"

Lily's mind was reeling, but even so she was a less trusting soul than James- she saw as he could not see why Sirius had made that choice.

"You didn't trust us." James was saying now, more quietly, more angrily. "You didn't trust us." There was an awful mocking tone to it, and Lily opened her mouth to snap at him-

"Of course I fucking trusted you!" Sirius shouted, eyes blazing, the outburst oddly reassuring. "You know who else I trusted, with my life? Wormtail!"

James froze, and Lily felt an imaginary knife dig into her heart.

There was a pause, in which James stared at Sirius and Sirius looked ready to hit him, muscles taut and mouth pulled into a snarl.

Then he sagged.

"Of course I trusted you, James." Sirius repeated, softly. "I would trust you with bloody well anything."

It was true, of course. True in that sometimes harsh way of Sirius', but nonetheless true.

James’ stance shifted, almost like Sirius really had hit him, and Lily sighed, half-relieved.

"So that's how you knew it was Peter."

Sirius' eyes flicked back to her, turning gun-metal grey. "Not until today, no. I saw him on my way back, when he was supposed to be guarding HQ- one thing led to another, and then it clicked."

"How were you sure?" James asked, arms crossed but apologetic edge to his voice.

Lily thanked him mentally for asking- if Sirius had made a mistake, if Peter wasn't...

"He told me so." Sirius spat out, with a mockery of a smile, shaking his head. "When I found out, he tried playing the innocent victim, and when that didn't work..."

The grimace faded. "We fought." Sirius continued, shortly. "And then I killed him."

His expression was full of that peculiar weariness that only soldiers know, looking gaunt beyond years and just as haunted. It was a frightening vision; a stranger wearing Sirius’ face.

"What do you mean, you fought?" Lily asked, surprising herself with the sound of her own voice. She needed to know, though; needed to understand what had made her world topple over so neatly in so little time.

"I mean we fought, all right?" Sirius snapped, scowling. It was as though she'd broken a last lock on him, all his emotions coming pouring out in a rapid torrent of words. "We spoke and  I got distracted and he cursed me with the same shit that took out a family last week and I got pissed and we duelled and I got him on the floor and he brought fucking Regulus into it and when I was off with the fairies he- and then I had him and he was fucking sobbing and begging and I didn't even care, Lily, I didn't even care, I was going to rip his neck out and I settled for Avada Kedavra!"

His frantic cry echoed in the room, Lily's mind flashing with images of the fight, piecing together Peter's terrified corpse and his cool death.

She could sense herself pale.

"I settled for an Unforgivable, and I didn't-" Sirius began, hoarsely, before cutting himself off. "Prongs, I'm just like them. I'll always be one of them."

He gave a helpless shake of the head. "I murdered my own best friend with an Unforgiveable as he begged for mercy, and I don't care. I did it."

He looked broken. James was wide-eyed.

Like this, wounded and hopeless, he cut an impossibly tragic feature; an Antigone out of time, an Elektra without an Orestes. Lily was irresistibly reminded of Shakespeare.

_Will all great Neptune’s oceans wash this blood clean from my hand?_

The next few seconds, she knew, would be decisive in a great many things- she used them to balance her thoughts, sorting through the impossible amounts of ideas that had flown into her mind.

Sirius and Peter. Betrayal, traitor. Fight. Death, murder. Guilt.

Time up.

Lily had made her decision.

"You are not one of them, Sirius. You're one of us." Lily told him, firmly.

Sirius laughed bitterly, his eyes wet. "One of you would never do something like I did."

Lily's eyes jumped to the bandages around him, her mind matching the wounds to curses, and she shifted, the information hitting her like a train. _Cruciatus curse._

The little _rat_.

"Yes, they would." Lily replied, a cold fury coursing through her. "If it had been me, Sirius- If Peter was here right now- I would haven't have let him get away with only an Avada Kedavra."

She meant it. She meant it because Mary McDonald had been murdered a year back and Peter could have been the one to do that. She meant it because Peter had been standing next to her at the Simmons' funeral and she'd hugged him tightly as they brought the coffins out, and Peter could have been the one to do that. She meant it because she had patched up Sirius' Crucio wounds mere hours ago, and because she had rubbed their carpet clean of his blood, and watched tears of pain well up in his eyes as he slept, and Peter had done that.

It set in for the first time since Sirius had slammed their door open, the horrid reality of what Peter had truly done, and Lily knew with a furious certainty she would have done much the same to him had she been the one to find out.

Sirius' eyes were sharp even through his haze, and for a moment they stared each other down, green against grey.

(Sometimes, she thanked the high heavens Sirius was on their side and not the enemy’s. Sometimes, others thanked the high heavens that she was on their side.)

There was something remarkably harsh about Sirius' gaze when he suspected someone was lying to him, but Lily was not lying.

Lily wasn't James. As much as she loved Sirius (and Merlin, she did), she was not going to lie to protect his feelings in these kind of situations.

Sirius broke their stare-down, giving in. In his glance, grim gratitude shone, and he only hesitated for a moment before his hand was reaching out to squeeze hers perhaps a little too hard. Lily pressed back equally hard.

The physical contact was reassuring beyond belief. She hadn’t been aware until then how much she needed Sirius to be _good_.

And then, of course, his eyes went to James.

Lily didn't blame him for doing so. James Potter was, to a great extent, Sirius Black's moral compass.

Her own chest clenched in apprehension as she turned to James- if he disapproved, if he turned away, a very real possibility, he'd be dealing Sirius a death blow.

James' gaze was distant as it focused on Sirius, looking down at his bandages, and then, as though someone had flipped a switch, his eyes lit up once more.

It wasn't a warm light.

"I'm no better than you are, Padfoot." James begun, slowly, with purpose. Lily wanted to hug him until his ribs cracked.

"It was you or Peter. If Peter had killed you-" He cut off, clenching his jaw.

Lily’s own mind flew to Sirius’ earlier state, another wave of cold hatred flashing through her mind before she shook it off.

"I think if Peter had killed you, I probably wouldn't even have cared who was the traitor." James admitted, in vague disgust, the words heavy with unconditional loyalty.

"You're not like them, Sirius."

Sirius almost visibly crumbled, his eyes feverish with naked relief, his entire person fixed on James as his hand crushed Lily’s.

"I'm sorry." Sirius mumbled, almost a chant. "I'm sorry. 'M sorry."

"Padfoot-" James tried, and then screwed his eyes shut. "Shite. No. Don't be."

And then, almost in sync, there was a hurried movement, and the two were gripping onto each other tightly, Sirius' head buried in James' shoulder, both of them sitting huddled next to Lily on the bed.

Lily let them be for a moment, swallowing difficultly as she flexed her fingers where Sirius had held them.

Sirius' knuckles were white from clutching onto James, traces of blood under his nails. His dark hair was spilling over James' shoulder, his hands shaking slightly as he avoided making noise.

James didn't look much better, head resting on Sirius', eyes closed firmly and mouth in a thin line.

Neither of them were crying- out loud, at least.

Lily wasn't going to let any of them bottle up their demons. Not today. She brushed her hair out of her eyes and scooted forwards, draping herself over both of the boys.

Young men, she supposed.

JamesAndSirius shifted, allowing her into their tightly woven net, two arms shooting out to pull her in, so that they were all tangled together, in a vaguely uncomfortable huddle.

And now they were crying.

Lily felt her inner walls collapse, hot tears spilling down her cheeks as she took quiet gulps of air.

She was _twenty_. Why did she have to be twenty _now_? “I can’t believe- Peter.”

The statement meant nothing, per se. Lily didn't even really mean it. She _could_ believe it was Peter, because it _had_ been.

Still, her meaning was crystal clear, if only in the abstract sense. Sirius let out a choked noise of agreement, and as James shifted to take a slow breath she felt his wet cheek brush against hers.

"I trusted him." James stuttered out, stumbling over his words. "I trusted him, I- it's my fault, I can't believe Peter would- Peter-" "It's not your fault," Lily and Sirius snapped, in unison, wrenching backwards so that they sat in an awkward circle with tear-stained faces, limbs still strewn across each other.

"James, we all trusted Peter. With our lives." Lily urged, voice shaking on the last word. "It's not your fault."

"Not a single one of us thought poor precious Peter would even be capable of betrayal." Sirius continued, a dark look shadowing his handsome features. He dug his nails into his palms.

"Why did everything-" Lily wondered, cutting herself off. She didn't know what to say. Happen to us? Go wrong?

"I don't know, Lils." James went, tiredly, leaning over so she could rest against him. "We'll be all right."

"Will we?" Lily said, rather bitterly. She was twenty. Half of her friends had been murdered.

It wasn't often she allowed herself to get so pessimistic.

Wormtail's betrayal, however, seemed like a suitable occasion.

James frowned, holding her more tightly, his soft friendly eyes dark with unhappiness.

"You will." Sirius stated, firmly, breaking her out of her gloomy reverie.

Lily glanced up. With his pallor and the cruel sharpness of his features, Sirius looked jarringly aristocratic, more of a Black than ever. The irony did not escape her.

His eyes were ablaze with furious conviction.

"You have to be."

James was blind, sometimes, to just how deep Sirius' loyalty ran. Even now, the Black family's almost grotesquely intense sense of loyalty was ingrained in Sirius, and Lily had no doubt that if there was one person it had attached itself to, it would be James. James would die for Sirius just as Sirius would die for him, but there was something more grim about Sirius' almost sacrificial attitude.

In the way he spoke then, Lily could see very clearly the martyr Sirius was prepared to be; wanted to be, in a sense, for James and Lily's happiness. It was a part of Sirius she was uncomfortably aware of, and didn’t very much like.

"We won't be all right if we lose someone else." Lily replied, steadily, and far from subtly. Sirius met her eyes without replying.

Their silent argument was interrupted when James let out a dry laugh that startled them both.

"Three years ago, we had just graduated from Hogwarts.” he issued as an explanation, smile fading.

_What went wrong_? was the underlying question.

The absurdity of it all was striking.

"Merlin..." James continued, pulling at his hair. "What time is it?” He was breaking through their dazed state by the simple everydayness of his question.

"Early morning." Sirius mumbled, looking towards the window. "Should I call someone, or-"

"Not now." Lily interrupted, shaking her head. She didn't want to have to think about Peter's corpse on her couch or who to tell or what to say. "It's not going to go away. We all need some sleep."

James hesitated, before nodding. "Lily's right. I don't want us exhausted and semi-drunken when dealing with...all that.”

“ _All that_ ” was somewhat of a euphemism, all things considered, but Lily didn’t blame him. “T _he murder of our best friend at the hands of our other best friend for being a traitor probably responsible for the deaths of hundreds of our co-insurgents_ ” seemed a bit too heavy for casual conversation.

Sirius frowned unhappily, looking automatically towards the stairs. "Right, then. I'll...go downstairs."

Lily and James exchanged an exasperated look.

Had they been stupid enough to let Sirius go, three obvious situations would have arisen.

One: Sirius would have sat for hours next to Peter's corpse, drowning in guilty hatred.

Two: Sirius would have avoided sleep for hours, pacing up and down silently to let them sleep.

Three: Sirius would have taken Peter and the bike and left to avoid causing them any trouble.

Fortunately, neither Lily or James were that inept at basic thinking.

"No, you're not." James answered, seriously. "You'll stay upstairs."

Sirius scowled, his plan three clearly ruined, but he shrugged and got up stiffly. "All right."

No, that wouldn't work either, Lily realised. Sirius could still stay up brooding if he was in the guest room, and if James and Lily fell asleep it would be easy to escape.

She reached out to catch his arm just in time. Sirius turned around with a confused frown.

"Ah, ah," Lily tutted, dragging him backwards. "You're staying right here."

"Just because I'm a dog sometimes doesn't actually mean I particularly enjoy sleeping on the floor, Lils." Sirius drawled, incomprehension obvious in his defensively folded arms.

"I wasn't suggesting the floor." Lily informed him, pleasantly, before turning to James. "Budge over, Potter."

James blinked, looking up at Sirius and back at her.

Both Marauders got what she meant at about the same time.

"Well, this certainly wasn't how I imagined our menage a trois happening." Sirius snorted, with a hint of his usual banter in the sparkle of his eyes.

"You have imagined it, though." Lily teased back, revelling in the change of tone and laughing at James' groan.

"Don't encourage him, Lily."

Sirius grinned fleetingly, before shaking his head. "Unfortunately, Miss Evans, we're not ten years old. Sleepovers don't really work."

"And do I look as though I give a shit?" Lily replied, raising a brow. "Get your bony arse in bed or so help me I will hex you."

"Bossy." Sirius tutted, with a tired smirk. "I take offense, though. My arse is not bony."

"Why is this happening to me?" James asked, ignored. "I don't need this." There was tangible relief in his voice, belying his words as he shot Lily a grateful look.

"Prongs, tell your wife my arse is amazing."

"I refuse to be a part of this conversation."

"Get in!"

With a lot of shuffling and uncomfortable elbows to the ribs, the three managed to cram in rather comfortably under the blankets, Sirius crushed between James and Lily in a transparent attempt against his evasion.

Lily squirmed around before finally curling up on her side, head resting near Sirius' shoulder and feet shoved between his legs. Sirius cursed loudly.

"Merlin, Evans, your feet are bloody freezing."

"Welcome to my life, mate." James muttered from behind him, sounding rather pleased to have evaded Lily's cold feet for once.

"The both of you can shut up or I'll lie on top of you." Lily threatened, shifting to jab an equally cold hand at Sirius' neck.

There was a double yelp of surprise as Sirius jerked away and accidentally hit James in the nose.

"Shite!"

"Bollocks!"

"Good night, boys." Lily said contentedly, letting her eyes drop shut. There was a pause, as though the other two were searching for something to say that would continue to uphold the pretence of normalcy they’d almost managed to keep going.

"Morning, really." Sirius corrected, craning his neck to look out. "Although, when you think about it, the concept of morning isn't really-"

"Oh, Merlin, no." James groaned. "Not this again." And then, more loudly, to Lily: "Seven years of sleeping next to him! Seven!"

"I'm a fantastic dorm-mate." Sirius retorted. "Unlike some people, who lacked the shame to close their curtains during the night."

"Excuse me?" James replied, scandalised. "I wasn't the one with nocturnal visitors!"

"Visitors, perhaps not." Sirius conceded, unperturbed. "But vivid dreams..." "Don't you dare." James hissed. "Ooohhhhh, Evaaaans," Sirius sighed dramatically, shifting to rest his hand on his forehead. "Oh, yeees..."

Lily choked on her own spit, making a very unladylike laughing noise, as Sirius gave a continued with his falsetto. "Evans, please let me touch your beautiful hair...Oh, Merlin..."

Lily shook with laughter as James let out a sputter, finally unfrozen from his betrayed stupor. "I swear to god-!"

Sirius' monologue was cut off by a thumping noise, and then the covers flew off Lily as a tussle ensued.

She smiled to herself at the ridiculous men next to her, biting her lip to avoid laughing. The action was oddly unfamiliar- the past few days had been so tense she'd almost forgotten how to laugh.

The scuffle ended shortly as Sirius let out a pained hiss and James stopped abruptly.

"Oh, fuck! Sorry, Padfoot, shite, I wasn't thinking-"

"'S all right, James, don't give yourself an aneurysm." Sirius snorted, voice a little pained.

Lily squinted in his direction. With the lights off and the curtains drawn, it was rather difficult knowing where exactly he was.

"If you two are quite finished, I'd like my duvet back."

The covers were hastily flung her way, and then silence fell, Sirius letting out an exhausted yawn.

A beat.

"Now sleep." Lily ordered, burying her face in the pillow.

"Yes'm." came the synchronised response, and then James was yawning too, and Lily felt her limbs turn heavy.

It was dark, the curtains closed, a wintery quiet outside the house. Sirius shifted, hissing lowly at the presumable pain that followed.

Silence fell.

Lily fell asleep quickly, as though her mind was determined to stop working. Her sleep was troubled.

She dreamt of a disfigured, screaming Peter, of Mary’s corpse clawing her eyes out, of Petunia, for the first time in years, running and running and running to get away from a huge, rabid rat with milky blind eyes. She dreamt of things she forgot in the morning, and of Sirius who became Bellatrix who became a horrifying dead body, hands reaching out to grab her.

She dreamt of excruciating pain, and of a cold green flash of light.

She did not wake up from these dreams.

 

—

Lily woke up with her face buried in something far fluffier than a pillow, jolting upright with surprised confusion.

"Wha-"

"Shh. No talking." James mumbled, obviously still half-asleep, voice muffled by the fluffy thing.

Lily moved back a bit, brain still in sleep mode, as she contemplated the dark lump on their bed. The lump shifted.

"Is that _Padfoot_?"

Said dog gave a snuffle, rolling over slightly, as Lily stared in disbelief. The great black dog was fast asleep, nestled between the two of them and evidently having served as a pillow for quite some time.

Lily stared at it for a moment, flabbergasted, as the dog gave a huffy breath and nudged James with its paw.

"James." Lily started, half incredulous. "Are you not disturbed by the dog on our bed?"

"'S not a dog, 's Padfoot." James yawned, still buried in the dog's admittedly soft fur. "He's comfortable."

Lily closed her eyes, and decided she had enough worries in her life as it was.

"Yes. I suppose he is."

She sat up to get a better look at the two. Padfoot the dog was lying happily next to James, whose hair was the only part of him still visible, the rest either under the covers or under the dog's fur.

Shaking her head, she reached out to poke Sirius in the side. When there was no reaction, she resorted to giving a loud whistle.

The dog's wide eyes flew open, and then with a blur of magic Sirius was back to human, giving her a panicked look.

"Why?" James groaned, still nestled into Sirius' side. "Why will you not let me be happy?"

Upon hearing his voice and registering Lily's presence, Sirius immediately relaxed, eyes still alert.

"We have to go do things, James." Lily mumbled, rubbing at her eyes. Her own good mood had dissipated suddenly in the face of reality. "The Order. Peter. Dumbledore.”

The gravely spoken words finally woke James up; he and Sirius both shuffling upright with grim expressions, exchanging a quiet look.

"Listen, Evans," Sirius started, tone carefully light, as much to her as to James. "It'd really be no problem for me to deal with it on my own- you and James are busy enough, after all."

"Don't be fucking stupid." James snapped, just as Lily let out a derisive snort. "Padfoot, listen to me- you are not doing this alone, understood?"

Sirius set his jaw, nodding stiffly. “If you insist.”

Fucking self-sacrificing idiot.

Lily gave him a shrewd look. "We weren't trying to spare your feelings yesterday, Sirius. None of this- you're not a bad person, all right? You're not."

The disgraced Black heir snorted softly,  a rueful twist to his features. "Not a hundred percent, maybe."

"We've all got good and bad inside of us, Siri. What matters- what makes you good- is the part you listen to." James stressed, fixing his best friend with an intent look. "The path you choose. That's who you really are.”

Sometimes, James had a knack for saying very intelligent things. It was mildly intimidating, and wholly attractive. In this particular situation, however, Lily was nothing but touched.

Sirius searched James' expression, silently, gnawing imperceptibly at his lip, before he gave a shrug. "Right, yeah."

It was as good a surrender as any.

Lily sighed, tugging her hair out of her eyes and sparing a glance for her reflection, who looked a real mess. "We should get going."

She turned away with a last glimpse of the boys' resolute features, wondering tiredly if this blasted war would ever end. For a moment, she almost wished she'd slept through Sirius' arrival, just to put off its consequences.

“And someone needs to tell Remus about this.” Sirius muttered, getting up from behind her with a grimace.

Lily’s eyes went wide in the mirror, fingers clumsily catching on to a tangled knot in her hair.

Fuck.

She’d forgotten about Remus.

In the mirror, the other Lily stared her down, green eyes unimpressed.

Lily tentatively pulled her hand loose from the knot, looking down at her feet.

Oh, yes. There was a lot to be done in regards to Remus Lupin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thus ends the first real chapter of the story- hope it was up to standards, and please do comment below. As always, find me at quidfree on tumblr if you want to discuss or request things, and see you hopefully soon with the next chapter.
> 
> Also, apologies for the second "cliffhanger" in a row- it was not intentional!


	3. Out of the fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus takes the news rather graciously, all things considered. He and Sirius only come close to murdering each other about three times.
> 
> There've been tensions amongst the group for a while now. Peter's death isn't quite as simple as that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this late? Not too much, I think. It's been a difficult few days, what with the Paris events unfolding so abruptly. Either way, I'm uploading this now, thereby introducing my n1 werewolf RJ Lupin himself, who's an absolute darling and who I hope to have done justice to. Slow on the plot, but it'll start accelerating soon.  
> Also, as a warning- Remus freaks out far less than J+L, for reasons I'll explain below.
> 
> Enjoy!

Chapter Two: Out of the fire

_“A loud snap made them all jump. Professor Lupin was breaking an enormous slab of chocolate into pieces. "Here," he said to Harry, handing him a particularly large piece. "Eat it. It'll help." [...]”_ – JK Rowling, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

 

\--

 

_“His hands were trembling for a different reason now, half-formed fists closing as his head throbbed. A slow burning snarl worked its way up his throat, the temptation to growl suddenly irresistible, his fingers twitching impulsively._

_Remus had been so patient with Peter._ So patient _.”_

 

\--

 

It had been a quiet week, Remus reflected with a sort of resigned amusement, stirring his tea. An incredible feat for a freedom fighter during a war on dark magic, but there you had it. 

He’d seen very little of his friends over the course of the past two weeks. Sirius and Peter had been sent up to Scotland for different missions, and he’d been off helping Moody with the recruits while James and Lily worked from home.

In fact, Remus had seen a lot less of his friends than he usually did, over the past few months- a fact that both surprised him and did not. He was perhaps a tad cynical, telling himself that he’d seen it coming: hardly astonishing that his friends didn’t have the time for him anymore during a war this important, especially with his condition. Who trusted a werewolf during a war on dark forces?

On the other hand, Remus had to admit it stung. Cynical as he tried to be, Hogwarts had made him almost forget his long-suffering ways, and he’d perhaps foolishly imagined his friendships would last. Noticing the slight distance growing between him and the others had hit him like a slap to the face.

 Well, now, Remus mentally chided himself. No need to jump ahead of things. This had only been going on for a month or two, after all. Knowing the Marauders, they probably actually _were_ only doing it because they were busy.

 

Except there was Sirius, and that was just a shade too deliberate for Remus’ good intentions to erase.

Remus sighed, putting down his wand and letting the spoon stop its stirring.

 Yes, Sirius. Sirius had been acting almost imperceptibly closed off for a while now, a couple of months at the least. Remus had caught him, several times, looking at him with a hard edge to his eyes. He could still recall the nauseous feeling that overtook him when he first noticed it.

 Then this morning the owl had been waiting for him, letter neatly on Remus’ kitchen table.

 

“Remus- Sirius on way to talk. He’s saying the truth. Come over tonight. L.E.”

 

It was short, hastily written, as though Lily had been rushing off somewhere in a hurry and had to pass the note on in very little time. Still, for such a small amount of words, the message had been able to create impressive amounts of anxiety.

 

Remus stared down at his tea, lost in thought, seeing the letter in his mind’s eye as he gazed at the glossy surface of the beverage. 

There was a sudden shimmer of magic, making Remus’ entire body change stance with anticipation, and then with a glint of silvery blue Sirius’ large canine Patronus had come into existence in his flat’s shabby living room.

Remus’ muscles relaxed, though his pulse raced on. A different sort of anticipation now invaded his mind.

 

The dog’s empty silver eyes turned on him, mouth opening to speak in Sirius’ uncharacteristically toneless voice.

“Moony, this is Padfoot. Coming through Floo Network in two.”

 Its mouth closed, the animal’s strangely piercing glance remaining fixed on Remus for a moment, before it vanished into a wisp of blue.

 

Remus carefully picked up his mug, cradling it almost robotically as he blew out a thoughtful breath. 

Sirius was coming. That would be the first time in four months that Sirius had paid a visit to Remus’ flat.

Two possibilities presented themselves, Remus mused, taking a scalding sip of watery coffee. Either there was good news, or very, very bad.

With the placid tranquillity of a doomed man, he ambled over to the fireplace, checking if the channels were open.

 

He’d barely moved back from the crackling green flames when there was a whooshing sound, like the swish of James’ Quidditch uniforms when he flew by, and a cloudy figure was forming itself in his chimney.

“Mind your head,” Remus called out, cradling his coffee close to him.

Predictably, Sirius’ head immediately crashed into the low threshold of the fireplace, causing him to wince and shake the soot out of his hair.

The lack of swearing was the first sign of trouble. The look on Sirius’ face when he straightened was the second. It was the third, however, that made Remus almost drop his mug. 

“Sirius- what _happened_ to you, are you being tailed, should I-”

“I’m fine,” Sirius interrupted, rushed. “Remus, I’m _fine._ Look.” 

He waved his arm at him, showing off the recent bandaging.

“I’m fine, honestly. Been taken care of.”

Remus shivered, and then felt a stab of hurt worm its way into his heart as he took this in.

 

“When did this…happen?”

Sirius blinked, before almost immediately following Remus’ train of thought. “Last night, Moony. Swear to God.”

 Remus nodded, nonchalantly, as though he didn’t care that Sirius had only now cared to inform him about whatever the fuck it was.

“So what happened?”

At that, Sirius flinched. Remus’ chest constricted.

“You might want to, ah. Sit down.”

“I’ll sit if you do,” Remus conceded, moving to the couch James had proudly Transfigured his chair into what felt like eons ago.

 

Sirius hesitated, yet another unfamiliar action that made his features seem far more youthful. He finally sat down across from Remus, in the heavily cushioned loveseat next to the fireplace.

Then he took a deep breath.

“Peter’s dead. He was the traitor.”

Of all the possible scenarios to arise, this was not one of those Remus had foreseen. He felt the blood drain from his cheeks, ears ringing, and was distantly aware of the cup slipping from his fingers, shattering on the floor.

 Impossible. Absolutely impossible.

His mind refused to cooperate. Peter could not be dead. Peter could not be the traitor.

Sirius was lying, Sirius was dangerous, Sirius- but no.

 Sirius had been bandaged, and Lily had sent a letter. He was telling the truth.

 

Impossible, Remus protested silently, more weakly this time.

His voice sounded like it was coming from underwater when he managed a: “What?”

Sirius’ expression was the same one he’d had during those terrible few weeks after the Snape Incident, when James and Remus had been too furious to talk to him, heavy guilt mixed with an almost aggressive refusal to feel it, steady suffering etched heavily in the way he stood. 

“He’s been working with _Voldemort_ since at least a year and a half ago.” Sirius said, burning with a low fiery anger that only now seemed to come bubble at the surface.

“No,” Remus breathed out, shaking his head. “No. Not Peter.”

God, please. Not Peter.

“He told me so, right after hitting me with a Crucio.” Sirius replied bitterly, lost in his own broody vision of whatever had happened.

Remus felt sick.

He let out something like a strangled cry of protest, breaths quickening with hysteria.

 

Peter was the traitor- Peter had- _Peter_ , who was Remus’ _brother_ …

The sound made Sirius’ head snap up, and the dark glow to his eyes vanished.

He was almost being kind when he issued a soft: “I’m sorry, Remus.”

It was the careful, worried tone that did it. Remus’s shoulders shook slightly, and he squeezed his eyes shut urgently.

 

Peter Pettigrew was dead. Peter Pettigrew was not their Peter.

Remus had expected many terrible things during this war, but he had never supposed this would happen.

“How- how did you find out?” Remus choked out, fighting for his voice to remain steady.

“He- I got sent on a solo mission a year ago. Ever since I’ve been trying to figure out who the traitor was- I knew he was in the inner circles of the Order; and…” Sirius shook his head. “Dumbledore was playing me like a chess piece. I just got to thinking.”

Remus nodded stiffly, a painful twist in his chest at the reminder of the manipulative skill their old Headmaster possessed.

“Peter…Peter attacked me when I figured it out. He- I killed him.” Sirius said, stumbling over the words like he didn’t know how to say them when he wasn’t spitting them out.

 

Remus shuddered. 

Peter was dead, Peter was the traitor, Sirius had killed him.

He opened his eyes, taking in Sirius’ face, Sirius’ wounds, Sirius’ posture.

It was all taut with tension- fear of how Remus would react, guilt over the death, rage over the betrayal, pain over the loss… 

“Avada Kedavra.” Remus guessed, more of a statement than a question.

 Sirius jerked backwards, reflexively. Then the muscle in his jaw jumped, and he managed to open his mouth.

“Yes.”

 

Remus took another long breath, focusing his eyes furiously on the shards of porcelain. 

Peter was dead, Peter was the traitor, Sirius had…Sirius had _killed_ him. 

“What were you going to do to him before that?”

“Strangle him,” Sirius replied, immediately, softly and with a twisted smile. “How civilized of me.”

“Says you to the werewolf,” Remus pointed out, incapable of not falling back on sarcasm even in a situation like this.

 Sirius snorted. There was a lost look to his eyes.

 

“Okay,” Remus tried. “Okay.”

 

It wasn’t.

 

“Who did he bring into-” Remus began, then stopped. Regulus, of course.

“He used the Cruciatus Curse on you?” he asked instead, to correct his slip up. 

Sirius gave a half-hearted wave at that, a sharp reminder of the bruises and bandages he was covered with.

Remus mustered up the strength to finally look at him, mind whirling with clustered thoughts all fighting to make themselves heard.

 

It was in three waves that his migraine worsened. 

First: Crucio- Sirius’ injuries.

Second: Regulus- Sirius’ expression.

Third: Peter- not, in fact, their Peter.

 

His hands were trembling for a different reason now, half-formed fists closing as his head throbbed. A slow burning snarl worked its way up his throat, the temptation to growl suddenly irresistible, his fingers twitching impulsively.

 Remus had been so _patient_ with Peter. _So_ patient.

 

He’d met the small, chubby, pale boy early in his first year, immediately taking pity on his weaker fellow student, and kept an eye out for him, quietly, for the first few weeks of school- up until he’d found Peter cornered by two amused fourth years.

Remus had reluctantly made ready for a fight, carefully putting his book down, then watched with relieved surprise as the laughing, charming young Potter boy appeared out of nowhere to sock one of the fourth years in the jaw.

The rapidly assembled crowd gave a gasp, eager for a fight.

 The two students had barely turned towards him, snarling, when Sirius Black slid around the corner to fall in step with James, determined sneer on his face and wand dangling easily from his fingers.

Remus was more scared of Sirius Black than he was of any fourth year, so he shrank into himself and watched with wide, apprehensive eyes as the two older students glanced from James to Sirius and back. Still, Sirius’ appearance had unsettled them; even more than James’: clearly Remus had not been alone in recognizing the heir to the Black dynasty.

The two had scurried off scowling, under the crowd of first and second years’ disbelieving stare, and then James had broken the spell by letting out a loud hoot of mischievous laughter, face alight with excited pride.

“Yeah, lovely day to you too!”

His laughter was infectious. The crowd rumbled with surprised chuckles, even as they all firmly took in this new knowledge: Peter Pettigrew was untouchable.

 

Remus found himself still watching Sirius with bated breath, watching the other boy watch James with a shuttered expression. There was a stiffness to his stance, a shadowy look to his eyes that made Remus’ skin crawl. 

James, however, either did not notice or did not care about the Black’s hesitant reaction, because he turned to grin at him, eyes sparkling.

“Wasn’t that just bloody brilliant?”

For a moment, Sirius Black looked almost taken aback, and then a slow grin spread across his face.

“Reckon it was, yeah.” 

James turned to Peter, smile firmly in place, and stuck out a hand.

“James Potter. Peter, right?”

Peter nodded, eyes impossibly wide, mute with shock as he loosely gripped the offered hand.

“Well, Pete,” James said, matter-of-factly, “You can hang out with us now. Me and Sirius will make sure no one messes with you.”

He turned back to the other Gryffindor with a conspiratorial beam. “Bloody fantastic, mate. _Merlin_ , am I glad you didn’t go to Slytherin.”

Sirius, whose eyes had not left James even for a moment, stiffened, and then gave something of a smirk. “What fun is there to have in Slytherin?”

James snickered, tossing an arm over Sirius’ shoulders. “Spoken like a true Gryffindor. C’mon, let’s go and see if we can get to the kitchens. I’m famished.” 

“We ate lunch an hour ago.” Sirius pointed out, making no effort to shake James off.

“What, you telling me you’re not hungry?” James exclaimed, wide-eyed and giving Peter a glance. “You hearing this?”

Peter gave a nervous giggle, as Sirius grinned- this one, for the first time, seemed a great deal less uncertain than before.

“Course I’m starved, stupid. Let’s go.”

James laughed, and with that they were off, the two linked by James’ friendly arm, Peter trailing behind them with an awed expression.

Remus had watched them go with a peculiar feeling. One the one hand, he was happy for Peter. The boy would be all right now 

On the other, Remus felt a bit ashamed, and also very interested. He had misjudged James Potter, it seemed, by assuming too hastily he would be a spoilt, arrogant bully. As for Sirius Black, well…

From what he knew, the Blacks were loathsome, powerful, cruel, dangerous. His father had insisted, lowly, that he stay away from the Black boy in his year, for his own sake. His mother had paled when she’d heard Sirius Black was his age. 

Sirius Black felt casually powerful, even dangerous, but helping Peter Pettigrew did not seem like a cruel thing to do. And he most certainly was not, Remus admitted reluctantly, loathsome.

He watched them disappear with a piqued interest and a rather foolish sense of solitude.

 

From then on, things had followed their course. Barely two weeks later, when Remus returned pale and ill-looking from his first full-moon away from home, he found himself suddenly spending more and more time with James Potter and his two shadows, as the messy-haired boy took to randomly appearing next to Remus and striking up conversation.

 Wary at first, cautious afterwards, Remus was irresistibly pulled into their group, shocked and overwhelmed with the sudden company.

His letters home showed how embarrassingly eager eleven year old Remus had really been to find these new friends, regardless of how prudent he thought he was being.

 

“Hi mum and dad,

 

Today James and Sirius discovered a secret passage to the kitchens. I wasn’t too keen on going, of course, but Peter was hungry, so in the end we all went down. It’s the still life with the pear- you have to tickle it.

 

Did you know the kitchens are run by house-elves? I didn’t. I feel rather bad for them, because they work here all the time, and they aren’t even paid, but they seem to be very happy, so I’m not sure. Peter didn’t seem bothered; he was too happy about all the food, and James and Sirius were mostly just proud of themselves for being so clever.

 

Sirius says he has four house-elves at home! He doesn’t seem too fond of them, though. I suppose they do look rather odd.

 

We got our Transfiguration tests back- I got an Exceeds Expectations, which is very good. Professor McGonagall is our Transfiguration teacher, as I expect I’ve told you, and she’s very strict but very smart- she told me I did “remarkably well”! James and Sirius also got Es, and so did Lily Evans (who’s also a Gryffindor) and two other Ravenclaw girls, but Peter only got a low grade (he didn’t want to say what, but Sirius stole his paper and told me it was a Dreadful). I told him I didn’t mind helping him with his work after I finish mine.

 

Quidditch try-outs have started, and James is real keen on going for them. Sirius laughed at him when he heard. He says no first years ever get on the team, nor second years. His cousins were on the Slytherin team, so he knows better than I would. I was afraid James would get upset, but he just told Sirius he was jealous because James was a better Quidditch player than he was.

 

Lily Evans came to speak to me after Potions, with her Slytherin friend whose name I forgot. She wanted to ask about Charms homework. She seems really smart and very nice, but her friend seemed rather sullen.

 

Sirius came to find me while I was still talking to her, and he congratulated her on being in Gryffindor. I thought she might not answer for a moment, but in the end she smiled and said thanks. Unfortunately Lily’s friend decided to start saying something about Sirius’ family, and Sirius got very upset and threatened to hex him, so Lily dragged him off and James suddenly arrived to pull Sirius away.

 

I’ve just asked- apparently James and Sirius met the two on the Hogwarts Express, and were not impressed by Lily’s friend. They say his name is “Snivellus”, but I’d expect that’s just a dumb nickname.

 

Anyhow, I’m off to help Peter with his Charms essay, so I’ll say goodbye for now. Everything is going well, and I don’t feel sick anymore. Send my love to Gran.

 

Lots of love,

 

Remus.”

 

His role as Peter’s academic crutch had remained much the same throughout the years. Although Sirius and James were both extremely bright, in ways that made Remus tired and self-critical, neither ever demonstrated any interest in struggling through Peter’s slow work. It was true that the two did become significantly more useful during exam periods, and then there was the Animagus issue, but generally it was Remus who sat gently explaining all the tricky parts of their lesson to Peter when Sirius and James sat huddled together, low laughing voices discussing the newest fantastic plans they’d concocted.

Peter wasn’t stupid, no matter what their fellow students often insinuated. He simply wasn’t made for academic work. Even the most simple of questions seemed to transform into riddles where Peter was concerned, whereas he was often the one who found the most convoluted means of escaping trouble or plotting revenge. 

And so no matter how much Remus longed to give up and march over to James and Sirius sometimes, he’d continued his long-suffering job as professor. 

Remus was, for the most part, a kind person. He tried to be unbiased, and fair, and not to treat anyone like they were less worth than he was. He uncomfortably looked away as James and Sirius tormented Snape, for fear of losing his friends, and ducked his head when Lily glared, but where his friends weren’t concerned Remus was easily the most understanding of the Marauders.

Paradoxically, Remus was also quick to cast a judgment. This was not something he encouraged: he worked hard to distance himself from these quickly made ideas. Still, after Sirius, who needed his world black and white, Remus was probably next in line in forming his image of someone.

With James, he’d seen a bright, spoilt but good-willed child, whose arrogant ease had discomfited Remus. With Sirius, he’d seen a furiously loyal, painfully sharp little heir who had a mean edge of cruelty to him- a fact that frightened Remus more than he cared to admit.

After getting to know them, Remus had seen the truth of his thoughts, but also noted that these traits of theirs were not by far James Potter and Sirius Black’s defining characteristics. He’d watched them grow into the brilliant, wonderful people they were, and seen their flaws grow from something he watched warily to something he’d all but forgotten about.

 

With Peter, it had been different.

Remus had not found a clear trait to define, upon meeting Peter. Later, he knew Peter to be a rather weak, cloying sort of boy, but that wasn’t exactly a crime: there was nothing Remus could concretely blame. Instead, there was a sense of mild discomfort that sometimes emerged in Peter’s presence, which made Remus’ skin crawl uncomfortably.

 He had berated himself many a time, critical of his unfair judgment and bias. Was he really so shallow as to forgive teenage cruelty for the sake of charm, but to edge away from Peter for cause of vague unease? No, Peter was his best friend, and Remus was not so disgusting as to like him less than his more popular friends- he was witty, and eager to please, and shrewder than he looked.

 

Now, Remus recalled that self-same sense of discomfort, and felt like screaming.

If he didn’t say anything, he might have gone completely insane, so he forced himself to think of something else; to try and follow a trail that didn’t hurt quite so much.

He picked the wrong trail.

 

“You thought I was the traitor.”

Sirius looked up, eyes suddenly alert. He had been quiet; brooding, as Remus sat and fought his anger- now, as his mind registered Remus’ words, he made a noise of pained reluctance.

Remus open and closed his mouth, his chest aching like he’d been the one exposed to Peter’s wand.

Be reasonable, Remus. Be reasonable.

 “Well, I. I suppose I understand. Werewolf and all that, it was only natural”-

“Stop,” Sirius cut him off, scathing. “Stop it.”

Remus froze, fingers flexing automatically, head throbbing and heart aching. 

“It wasn’t going to be _James_ , was it.” He heard himself say, dryly.

 Sirius made a rapid movement, as though avoiding a curse thrown his way, and then shook his head angrily.

“Damn it, Remus, it wasn’t like that!”

 

Of course it had been. Remus was Remus. There was no point in these outbursts, this emotion, couldn’t Sirius _see_ how desperately he was struggling to remain calm?

 As though reading his mind, the Black snarled, jumping to his feet. “I’m not going to allow your fucking self-hating bullshit, Remus _, it wasn’t like tha_ t!”

At Remus’ scornful silence, he pushed on, seething: “I didn’t think it was James, fine, but I didn’t think it could be you because I didn’t _trust_ you, I just didn’t think Peter was capable of doing any-fucking-thing else than following us stupidly around!”

Changing tactics, his expression went pleading. “Remus, believe me- I didn’t think it was _any of you._ Out of the four of you, well, yes, I thought of you the most, and I am _sorry_. You’re so smart sometimes I forget you’re _good_ too.”

It was no lie. Sirius, who came from a family of liars, spoke in a harshly truthful way more often than not- and he was not going to lie about something this important.

Remus wavered, composure threatened.

“I’m _sorry_ , Moony.” Sirius repeated, ashamed, grey eyes drilling at Remus’ resistance. “Forgive me.”

 

Remus snapped. 

“Don’t _apologize_ , Sirius- I _loved_ Peter, and he-”

The werewolf in him let out a guttural growl that Remus swallowed with another outburst. “He _betrayed_ us, he _used_ us, he- God, Sirius, you were his _best friend_ and he- Look at what he _did to you_!” 

Sirius eyes went dark, and for a moment they stood there, Remus fighting the bestial rage in his chest as Sirius stood silently with the sick pride of one who has guilty blood on his hands.

“Look what he did to you,” Remus whispered, the rage fading, his hurt and pain and loss rearing up in its stead. His eyes were irresistibly attracted to the bandage over Sirius’ hand (his delicate, long fingers hidden by the pristine white).

He was so engrossed in it, the throbbing in his head so distracting that he didn’t even register Sirius moving until a pair of hands came to rest on his forearms. Remus looked up sharply. 

“I know,” Sirius said, both infinitely more vicious and more gentle than he usually was, his flashing eyes promising an eternal grudge even as his expression shared Remus’ heartbreak. “I know, Remus. I’m- he’s _dead_ now.”

“He should’ve known that if Voldemort didn’t kill him, we would.” Remus replied, coldly. It was the first time he used the name.

 

Sirius hugged him, then, and Remus hugged back with all he had, pouring all his hurt and tears into the tight grip he had on Sirius’ vest, shoulders heaving with the effort not to start sobbing. Sirius’ hold was just as tight, his soft silky hair falling like a curtain between their bowed heads, his breaths forcefully even.

There were a million things to be said, a million more that Remus should have said then. Instead, he found himself hoarsely speaking up: “I missed you.” 

Sirius tensed, and then his hands subconsciously gripped the back of Remus’ sweater more tightly, a slow shuddering breath escaping him. 

“I did too.”

It was a quiet, strangely solemn apology, an unspoken reference to the distance they’d allowed to grow between them over the past year.

 

Sirius could have died, Remus realized again. Peter could have been hugging him now, tearfully informing him that Sirius had been a traitor.

Remus shivered, burying his head in Sirius’ shoulder. God, _Peter_.

“I hate this war.”

Sirius gave an abrupt barking laugh. “You and me both.”

 

Remus pulled back reluctantly, so that they were face-to-face, hazel eyes meeting grey turned inky blue. Sirius was pale, worn. Remus felt the absurd need to brush his hair out of his eyes. 

The air was oddly heavy as they stared at each other. 

“I’m sorry, for the- I’m sorry.” Sirius said, soft and sincere. He sounded far too fragile.

“Don’t be,” Remus shrugged. “You’re _alive_. Peter’s not. That’s enough for me.”

Sirius’ eyes went bright, the way they did when Lily had asked him to be best man and when James had emerged from the screaming sea of Gryffindor Quidditch players to toss him the Quidditch House Cup. 

“And now,” Remus said, with a deep breath, “I need some fucking chocolate.” 

Sirius snorted, a semblance of a smile flitting across his lips, and now Remus _really_ needed to move away, away from the carefully established lines and boundaries they’d discreetly laid down under James’ unsuspecting eyes, never speaking of it but instinctively going with it. 

“Your belief in chocolate is simply touching, Remus.” Sirius half-laughed, shaking his head. “If it wasn’t an almost religious fervour, I would be impressed.”

Remus rolled his eyes, the gesture comforting, as he tugged himself loose. His walk was unsteady as he headed into the kitchen, but he kept going until he was out of sight, pausing to brace himself.

Deep breaths.

 

Remus opened the cupboard with an intent concentration, focusing his willpower on his unfortunately shaking hands. He would have to go do the groceries soon, he noted absently. The cupboard was alarmingly bare, a measly few cans of tinned Bolognese and three slabs of chocolate its sole inhabitants. Remus was simply too busy, these days- he sometimes forgot to eat for over a day, and other times didn’t have the appetite. There was also the issue of money: although Remus’ father was a successful man, Remus point-blank refused the hit to his pride that asking for help would be. His parents had already helped with his apartment. 

It was difficult, though. Remus had thought that perhaps he’d have a good career; he’d been interested in doing work on wizarding culture, or perhaps teaching. Instead, the war had happened, postponing any possible studies Remus had hoped for, and leaving him with tiring menial muggle jobs to pay for the rent, on top of all his Order tasks. (He’d tried getting a job in the wizarding world, but everyone that wasn’t Death Eater affiliated seemed to know about his _condition_.) 

The others hadn’t had the same problem. Peter lived with his mother, who was quite financially stable, and both James and Lily’s families were at least mildly rich, leaving the two to a comfortable existence even without working. Fleamont Potter’s potions, although sources of great embarrassment _chez_ James, had won the family a fortune. Sirius, on the other hand, had gone from the Potter household to his own modern, spacious apartment, paid for by his great-uncle. Said Great-Uncle Alphard’s extremely large gift had left Sirius with no need to work unless he so desired.

What would they tell Mrs Pettigrew, he wondered? That her son was a disgusting traitor?

His keen ears picked up footsteps, and he whirled around, pulse racing for some reason. Sirius, in the doorway, raised a critical brow. 

“How long does it take to pick up a bar of chocolate?”

Remus’ cheeks burned red, as he suddenly imagined what Sirius had been doing in his absence. Taking in the poorly furnished room, the books stacked precariously but respectfully in every dry place he could find, the shabby coat hanging from the doorknob.

Sirius’ gaze slid to the open cupboard, even as Remus moved to hide it.

 There was a long pause, as Remus itched to grab his wand and cast a rapid Obliviate on his long-time friend.

 

“What the fuck, Lupin.” Sirius said, flatly, marching into the kitchen. Peering at the empty shelves, the line of his profile hardened, and his eyes flew to Remus.

“I’m _fine_.” Remus insisted, slamming the cupboard door shut, shame crawling up his spine. “I’ve been _busy_.”

“Busy starving yourself?” Sirius demanded, half-mocking and half-infuriated. “What am I going to tell James- _two_ of his best friends died recently?”

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Remus snapped, words tumbling from his mouth unaccounted for. “ _You’re_ half-suicidal at best.”

Sirius didn’t rise to the bait, only growing more resolute, his shoulders tense. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“What am I supposed to say?” Remus hissed. “We’re in the middle of a war, not a picnic! I’m doing perfectly all right, for the love of Godric!” 

“We could at least have made sure you weren’t _starving_!” Sirius exclaimed. “This place is decrepit, you don’t sleep, you don’t eat- for fuck’s sake, Moony!”

 “We’re _all_ in a bad shape, Sirius! Just because you pretend you have no weaknesses doesn’t mean it’s the truth!” Remus argued, hackles raised.

 “No one else is physically wasting away!” Sirius replied, seething. “Letting us help isn’t going to _kill_ you!”

“I don’t want your bloody charity, you _utter arse_!” Remus finally shouted.

“It’s not fucking charity, it’s helping a friend!” Sirius barked, throwing his hands up in the air. “Why do you have to be so _stubborn_?!”

“Well, I’m sorry if not all of us can afford to lounge about drowning in our inheritances,” Remus spit back, with a broad sweep of the arm. “I’m not going to let you make me your pity project!”

“I wasn’t offering to _buy you an apartment_ , I was-”

“But you would, if I said yes, because that’s just _so-_ ”

“You could always just bloody well move in with me!” Sirius yelled at him, finally cutting his rant off.

Remus, who’d been about to lay down a very eloquent response, faltered. Sirius took advantage of the sudden silence to stare him down, his scornful sneer an almost comic reminder of Padfoot’s snarling.

 “Unless my flat’s not good enough for _you_.”

Remus bristled, but he’d been knocked off-kilter. “Of course not, you idiot, but that’s still-”

“Still what?” Sirius asked, crossing his arms. “My apartment is huge. Maybe I’m lonely.”

 

Remus scowled. “No, you’re not.”

“How do you know? I actually hide my inner pain behind a wall of self-confidence.” Sirius dead-panned, which was uncomfortably true. “Would you really let me down like this?”

Low blow. “Sirius, don’t be stupid.” Remus huffed, rolling his eyes. “We both know you’re fine.”

Which wasn’t true, but Sirius was fine in the sense that he most definitely didn’t need a flatmate.

 “It makes sense.” Sirius insisted, something of a smirk in the twinkle of his eyes. “More useful for operations, less of a hassle for organisation, and besides…”

Remus gave him an exasperated look. “You’re not half as endearing as you think you are when you act like an arse.” 

“That’s not a no.” Sirius reminded, in a frankly obnoxious sing-song.

Unfortunately for Remus, this was the first time since Sirius had arrived (or perhaps even before that) that something akin to his usual _joie de vivre_ emerged from his current grim attitude, meaning that any possible protest Remus could have made vanished instantly.

“You are infuriating. I hope you’re aware.” 

Sirius grinned, a sharp triumphant glint of a smile- the sight was both familiar and painfully not. “Is that a yes?” 

Instead of answering, Remus aggressively snapped off a piece of chocolate and thrust it at him.

 

Sirius smiled at that, hands raised in surrender as he bit into his square.  Remus scoffed, cradling his own piece in mute rebellion. Honestly, it was a wonder he ever endured this horrible excuse for a friend, who brought out the absolute peak of immaturity in him- perhaps this long-lasting bond had simply been caused by a mutual sympathy for the names Remus and Sirius.

“It would take a while to sort my things.” Remus finally conceded, after a few minutes of silence. “And even more time to move everything over.”

 “Magic exists for a reason.” Sirius replied, smugly. 

Remus sighed. Still, his mind was mulling it over, a forgotten feeling of excitement coursing through him. The last time he’d shared living quarters with anyone had been at Hogwarts, and sharing with Sirius…He’d spent so little time with his best friend over the past few months that talking to him every day seemed almost impossible; a fantastic dream. He hadn’t lied when he’d said he missed him.

“How’re James and Lily?”

Sirius’ features twisted. “All right.”

“All right?”

“They- it was a tad more sudden for them.”

At Remus’ imperiously raised brow, Sirius continued, looking away: “I showed up at their house at midnight half-dead with Peter’s corpse.”

Remus blinked.

“I- I can see how that would be a bit of a different scenario, yes.”

 

Sirius’ smile had vanished, now, making Remus’ own comparatively good mood fade, Peter’s fate hanging like some sort of ghostly presence between them.

“Lily told me we were going to theirs tonight.” Remus said, hesitantly, supressed headache now surging up again as he attempted to regain his previous quietude.

“Yeah,” Sirius agreed. “Unity in numbers and whatnot. Besides, they don’t want me spending the night alone.”

The last part was said dryly. Sirius didn’t seem to be trying to avoid staying over, but Remus knew him well enough to know that he would need some time alone, if only to work through his current emotional state. Remus understood- of all of them, they were the most likely to isolate themselves in times of crisis. Peter clinged, and James suffered in silence but surrounded himself with his closest friends; Remus withdrew into himself, and Sirius physically removed himself from social interactions.

“Are they doing okay?”

Sirius shrugged, less carefully than at the previous question. “Lily’s…dealing with it. More like you. James didn’t take it too well.” His eyes went to Remus, and he gave a tired smirk. “James trusts everyone far too much.” 

Wasn’t that just the truth? Remus thought, with the same ironic agreement. James had been one of those boys destined for popularity: charming, witty, smart, cocky, with a cruel edge and a good heart. He could have chosen any group of friends for himself- had he been so disposed, Remus did not doubt that James Potter could have become a founding member of a House unity movement that spanned across the eons. Instead, he had chosen three outcasts and stuck to them fiercely, out of pure empathetic friendliness.

Peter had been a cowardly, chubby, Squib-like, made-to-be-bullied sort of child. Sirius had been the fearsome young heir of a hated Slytherin bred aristocracy. Remus had been sickly, quiet, on edge, tired. James had decided there was something worthwhile in each of them, and become their apparently oblivious protector, uncaring about anyone’s opinion but his own. 

 

“Fucking hell,” Remus sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I need a smoke.”

“Smoking kills,” Sirius tutted, which was bloody rich coming from him.

“And chocolate makes you fat.” Remus retorted, sarcasm dripping from his every word.

“My family is notoriously bony.” Sirius answered, nonchalant. “Probably breed us specifically to fufill the criteria.” 

“Delightfully disturbing,” Remus said, with a shake of the head. “I do so love the Blacks.”

“ _Toujours pur_ ,” Sirius reminded, grabbing himself another row of chocolates. “We couldn’t just intermingle with commoners.” 

“In that case, you could return the chocolate.” Remus assessed, with an unimpressed look. “Seeing as you just took it from a half-blood werewolf.”

Sirius grinned. “Thankfully, I happen to be a very open-minded person.” 

“Indeed.” Remus drawled, rolling his eyes. “Lucky me.” 

“I detect a hint of resentment.”

“From me? Never.” 

Sirius snorted, opening his eyes to cast him an amused look. “Saint Lupin. Who would’ve thought it?” 

“I’m offended that you sound so surprised.” Remus snarked back, looking supremely offended. “Has it taken you this long to recognize my virtuous nature?”

At that, Sirius let out a choked noise, shaking his head. “Remus Lupin, _virtuous_? You fool no one, creature of sin.” 

“I think you’ll find the majority of our fellow students and teachers to disagree,” Remus pointed out primly. “I’m an excellent, quiet student, constraint to suffer through my rowdy friends’ mischief.”

“I’ll show you mischief,” Sirius muttered darkly, but there was a lightness to his features that hadn’t been there since he’d stepped out of the fireplace.

Remus allowed himself to laugh.

 

\--

 

It was chilly out.

Remus, even with his hands in his pockets and his nose buried in a scarf, shivered. He supposed Sirius had had a point when he’d gone off about his poor physical condition: his transformations were painful and draining, and going without proper rest and food was hardly the most recommended strategy. Not that Remus would know about recommended werewolf strategies- the first time he’d met a werewolf, Fenrir Greyback had tried to rip his shoulder open, and since then all his encounters had included trying and failing to convince those he found to join their side.

They’d spent the few hours before leaving mostly in silence, falling back to less cheerful thoughts without quite sinking to dangerously low levels. Remus knew the whiplash would set in later; the concrete knowledge of Peter’s death, but for the moment his mind was (surprisingly) managing to keep his panic at bay.

He wondered how he would have reacted, if it had been him and Peter. If he would have been more vengeful, more cruel (perhaps). More reluctant, more compassionate (perhaps not).

Too slow, maybe.

It was a good thing it had been Sirius, Remus reflected darkly. With no Sirius, no lightning-fast reflexes, no utterly sharp mind, no dark twisting roots to fall back on, no all-encompassing loyalty, there might also have been no James and Lily soon afterwards, leaving Remus to grieve with the man who’d gotten them all murdered. 

Now, Remus did not shudder from the cold.

 

They’d Apparated, Sirius unsure if the Potters would be home yet. It had allowed Remus to observe just how badly Sirius had really been injured.

Apparating usually came easy to him, as most things magical did- in this case, however, Sirius had seemed on the verge of collapsing even after their joint Apparition, and there were moments during the process that Remus had even feared he would pass out and get Splinched. 

He’d stopped outside the town instead of at the house, fearful of going too far. Sirius looked pale as the fresh snow of January, still clutching onto Remus’ arm (a true sign of injury, for Sirius would refuse help as much as he could) as they wandered up the streets of Godric’s Hollow.

Remus felt like hitting Sirius (figuratively, of course) for being an idiot- coming over to his must already have been unbearable, and he was willing to bet that the stubborn Black had denied James and Lily the chance to accompany him (hence Lily’s hurried letter). Still, he didn’t mind the slow walk, and the idyllic village was never a sore sight for the eyes, so if he had to suppress a wince or two at Sirius’ too tight grip, that was that. 

 

“Would you ever consider living somewhere like Godric’s?” Remus asked, after a moment of walking.

Sirius’ eyes flicked up and down, considering the snowy landscape. “I don’t think Godric’s would be particularly keen on me.” He snorted. “Besides, I’m not into crocheting and cottages, so I’m afraid it wouldn’t quite work out.”

Remus shook his head. “Here I thought you were about to stun me with an original response.” 

“Just because it’s your fantasy to become the village librarian…” Sirius mumbled, mock-scornfully.

“We can’t all live off sex, drugs and rock and roll, Mr Too-Much-Of-A-Rebel-To-Settle-Down.” Remus replied, with a pointed smirk. 

“If I’m not dead by forty, I’ll consider it.” Sirius responded dryly. 

“Forty? That’s optimistic.” 

“That’s because I’m hoping it’ll never happen.” Sirius shuddered. “Me, middle-aged…Can you imagine?” 

“Revolting,” Remus agreed, sarcastic as can be. “It scars me just thinking of it.”

“James and Lily could do middle-aged. They’re a nice married couple.” Sirius complained. “You can do middle-aged exceptionally well. You’re _meant_ to be the kindly absent-minded old professor-ish uncle. Me?” 

He shook his head. “No, I’ll have to die young and glamorous.”

 

“Aw, no daddy Sirius? What will your white-house-picket-fence three children say?” Remus mocked, goading him on. 

Sirius actually shuddered. “No, please, not _children_.”

“Why not? I’m sure you’d make a _fantastic_ father.”

“Look, Lupin, children hate me and I hate children. I’m content with it staying that way.”

“What if James and Lily have a baby?” 

Sirius stopped abruptly, almost making Remus fall face-first into the snow. 

“Remus, just think about the implications of _James, Lily and a baby_.” 

“They’ve been _married_ for a year now.” Remus reminded him, soothingly.

Sirius’ revolted expression didn’t waver. “It’s James and Lily. They could be sixty for all I care. Any child brought up in that household will become a conflicted, traumatized spoilt little twat.”

Remus huffed out a cloudy breath, shaking his head. “How cynical of you.”

“Says Remus bloody Lupin.”

 

No, Remus thought, with a smile nevertheless, James and Lily would make good parents, later, if they were allowed the time to. It was a pity, really, Remus loved children. Had he been an average, normal wizard, he would’ve loved having his own children, perhaps, or even just teaching them. Instead, he was shooed away from them; a danger, a threat.

They were almost at the Potters’ house now, the chimney smoking merrily away and the lights shining like beacons- a promise of heat and comfort. Sirius was slowing down, ready to pull away from Remus should the door open to demonstrate his lack of suffering. Remus rolled his eyes. 

“Are you staying over tonight?” Sirius inquired, breaking the silence conversationally, as though he’d been talking to himself for the past few minutes

Remus hesitated, mulling it over.

His silence hadn’t offended Sirius, who seemed to have gotten lost in thought.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Sirius shrugged, although he was worrying his lip. “I hope they won’t have kept my bike.”

“Your motorbike?” Remus asked, puzzled, and trying to figure out who _they_ were and what they wanted with Sirius’ flying motorbike. 

“Well, Peter was in the sidecar…” Sirius mused, absently. He seemed more anxious to get his bike back than to think about Peter’s corpse, which Remus didn’t blame him for.

 “I…doubt they will. Although if Arthur Weasley gets his hands on it, you’ll likely never see it again.”

Sirius snorted, snapping out of it. “That guy is brilliant, Moony. Lovely man, but bloody bonkers. It’s his wife I’m bothered about.” He shook his head. “What with their thirty babies and whatnot…”

“I’m pretty sure there are five of them.” Remus replied sardonically, stopping to open the little gate.

“Five!” Sirius exclaimed, a tad of his usual melodrama seeping into his words. “I would sooner die than confront five ginger brats, thank you very much.”

“At this rate, you’ll accomplish your goal soon enough,” Remus grumbled, pausing by the door to give him a pointed look.

“Oi, don’t you try and play smart,” Sirius snapped, peevishly. “If you want me to keep my mouth shut about your own lack of self-care, then shut the fuck up about mine.”

 Remus raised his hands in surrender, wincing. “Touché.” 

The door swung open, revealing an exhausted looking James pulling a face at them. Exhaustion aside, his eyes shone with their usual light upon spotting them, relief and amused fondness mingling in his grin. 

“Unless you two would prefer to bicker outside all evening, we have depressing news and good food inside.” James issued, half-serious. “All for your comfort, of course.”

“Darling,” Sirius drawled, before Remus could even issue a greeting, “You know my tastes so well.”

 

At that, a real grin broke out across James’ features.

 

“Yeah, mate, I reckon I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Voila! No cliffhanger this time, although it was tempting. As always, comments and kudos are much appreciated, and I am available for discussion on my tumblr. 
> 
> Sidenote: Remus does not take the news as James and Lily do, because he is confronted with a far less abrupt situation. For one, he's not woken up in the middle of the night; for another, he doesn't literally find Sirius bleeding to death with Peter's corpse. He also doesn't have to go through the soul-crushing dilemma of who to trust, as Sirius' bandages + the letter from Lily indicates J/L have placed their trust in Sirius.


	4. The Hearing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius versus the court, James Potter's wayward thoughts, and a number of other things. The wizarding justice system might be flawed, but James is pretty sure it doesn't usually involve the appearance of Death Eaters. Usually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the extremely long break! I wanted to post this for Christmas, but I had computer troubles, To compensate, though, this is the longest chapter so far (almost 9k), surpassing even the prologue...Yes, it ends on a cliffhanger, but I hope your appreciation won't be subsequently diminished ;)

Chapter Three: The Hearing

“ _You think I'm a fool?" demanded Harry. "No, I think you're like James," said Lupin, "who would have regarded it as the height of dishonor to mistrust his friends.”-_ JK Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

 

\----

_“Are you insinuating I’m the traitor?” Sirius asked, lowly, a muscle jumping in his jaw. The sight of it almost triggered James’ reflexes into action; a lifetime of fights making him all too prepared to back Padfoot up if push came to shove. His voice had killed almost all the noise in the room, its sheer cutting intensity making the cosy heat of the safe house drop._

_“I am not insinuating anything.”_

 

\---- 

The week after Peter’s death was hectic, leaving James drained, depressed, and frankly content to never have to deal with bureaucrats again. 

It was difficult sometimes, being James Potter. Not that James thought himself some pinnacle of perfection (not _these days_ , anyway, he’d outgrown that phase), of course, but he was hardly oblivious to his friends’ ways. He’d seen the look on Sirius’ face when James had briefly cracked, after hearing the news- like it or not, James had always been the core of the Marauders, from bringing them together to keeping them united, and letting his own hope flicker was condemning his friends to the self-same fate. Amazing though they all were in their own rights, they were far from optimists, and war wasn’t exactly the occasion to prove them wrong.

 James was essential to keeping the morale high, so to speak. 

The thought of that made him pause in his brisk walk down the bustling streets of London, narrowly avoiding being hit by an irate Muggle businessman.

Say what they might, James couldn’t shake the feeling his friends knew his guilt as well as he did. Had he not drawn them all together, raised Peter to continually run after those stronger than him? Sirius’ awareness of morality might have been diminished by his upbringing, but his lightly cruel way of stringing Peter along did not leave space for thought, whereas James had been acutely aware of the times where he lead Peter places he couldn’t follow. It wasn’t as though he’d been purposefully driving Peter to…whatever he’d become, and yet.

 

Peter…James had not been lying when he declared his own hypocrisy to Sirius, nor about the flaming hatred coursing through him at the thought of Sirius’ lifeless form slumped on the ground, but Peter’s guilt did not dim the burn of his loss- an acute, searing pain that had buried itself deep in James’ chest.

Of all the Marauders, James had known Peter the longest, funnily enough- childhood acquaintances, friendly mothers and so forth. He’d not paid much attention to Peter Pettigrew for the first few weeks of school, too engrossed in the magic of Hogwarts, the excitement of Gryffindor House and the coldly charismatic Black in his train carriage, but it hadn’t taken him long to pull Peter into his first prank. The push and pull defined many of James’ relationships, he supposed, something like twisting regret throbbing somewhere inside him. 

James pulled, and Peter followed best he could, sometimes managing to get close enough to push. Back at Hogwarts, James had delighted in his often-slower friend’s moments of sheer cunning brilliance, teasing him for his Slytherin-like mind. It was with Peter’s hilarious advice that they’d pulled off some of their greatest masterpieces, and with Peter’s help they’d avoided the probably severe consequences of said masterpieces. Now, he couldn’t help but replay those moments, wondering exactly where he’d lost the Peter he’d known to the cruel, sniveling traitor that Sirius had killed.

Peter had been scared. A coward, perhaps, but a scared young man, barely an adult. James thought that with time he’d come to forgive him, if only because no one else would. The look on Mrs. Pettigrew’s face when he’d gone to tell her the news had been enough to chip away at the dark black disgust gnawing at his heart.

 

_It does no good to dwell on the past and forget to live_ …

James sighed, wiping his stinging eyes resignedly. He’d never been one to be caught up in the past- he was the future, always, rushing towards bigger and better things. Nowadays, he sometimes felt as though he was chasing after his own death instead.

If James was the future, Remus was the constant present, and Sirius was the resentful past. Peter, then, fell out.

 

They were meant to have a hearing, amongst the Order, to conclude the case. James hated the word- a case, as though Peter Pettigrew and all his love and lies could be calmly put into a box and neatly filed away rather than defiled and mourned and raged at. Still, his repulsion for the unfeeling system was far outweighed by his concern for Sirius, and he’d spent the week by Lily’s side, quietly battling for Sirius’ easy way out. 

No one had opposed their story, of course, but murder was murder, and James often felt the wizarding world’s archaic judicial system was too quick to judge. Still, after a full week of annoyed back-and-forth that mainly included Lily threatening obnoxious Order members with bodily harm, it was settled that Sirius would just need to appear quickly in court for superficial reasons, and then be sent off his merry way. 

James shuddered. Sirius was not one who got along with any kind of authority, especially when unsettled. In the month following their one and only major fight, after the Snape incident, Sirius had spent the majority of his free time in detention, his scathing and spiteful presence in class inevitably going too far for his unfortunate teachers and co-students. Even with the teachers that Sirius had actually liked, his innate recklessness often pushed him to insolence- it was tolerated by Dumbledore and wryly rebuked by McGonnagal, but James had the feeling that a wartime court would take less kindly to his snark. 

Merlin, but Sirius could be a mess. Sometimes, in his colder moods, James found himself wondering just how much of that was his own fault; his worst defects mercilessly sculpting a terrible, charming best friend for him to keep.

Sometimes, he thought he might have done it on purpose, with all the confident arrogance of the young. 

Sometimes, he felt if he let himself go completely, he might be tempted a bit too strongly by Sirius Black’s more wicked smiles.

 

Shaking his head to distance himself from yet another dark spin down self-hatred lane, James ran a hand through his permanently wind-ruffled hair, wishing for a smoke. He resumed his walk at a more leisurely pace, mind wandering back to the trial. No, he had a bad feeling about this trial- the sort of nagging feeling that had followed him around for the entire day before Sirius had come bursting into their house. Not that his opinion mattered, after all: he was hardly going to come charging into the council shouting about his gut feeling. 

All that he had left to do now was to go pick up the other three and head over to the Order’s chosen meeting point. Snorting, the dark-haired young man rolled his eyes as he rounded the corner. Yeah, because that was going to be so simple.

With a quick look around, James Potter vanished in a flash of magic, his form evaporating with a colourful blur.

\--- 

The snow was still fresh at Godric’s Hollow, and their footsteps crunched neatly on the ground as they walked out of the small town. Wrapped in thick coats, the four of them almost could’ve passed for a family taking a stroll, were it not for Sirius’ rather obvious bandaging and the fact that they had their wands out.

The Portkey was only half an hour’s walk away, but Dumbledore had insisted on them walking to it, apparently fearing they would be tracked to the meeting.

 

“I do so enjoy stumbling through frozen tundra to reach someone's grandmother's vase.” Remus drawled sarcastically, falling in step with him. 

James' eyes flicked backwards, and he looked back to find Lily and Sirius conversing lowly, Sirius looking grimly amused. Well, that was better than whatever he'd seen that morning, so he turned back, satisfied. 

“The wizarding world is oh-so advanced,” James snorted, imitating a Binns-style drone. “After all, we still use candles and other bullshit instead of some kind of magical electricity, and we base our child transportation services on death horses.”

 “Death horses.” Remus repeated, deadpan. “That's new. Not sure Hagrid would approve of you insulting his dear Thestrals, though." 

James laughed, knocking their shoulders together and catching the hint of Remus' smile. He was reassured to have Remus back with them. After the blow of losing Peter, James felt the constant urge to have the other three around him at all times, as though their slipping out of sight would cause them also to slip through his fingers. Remus had drifted off, recently, the one thing James had never expected any of them to do- that, and Peter turning to the Dark Lord himself and betraying all those closest to him, he supposed.

Still, though James was perfectly aware of the near impossibility of losing Sirius Black to the years, Remus was far more the type to inch away little by little until he’d disappeared quietly and safely. James had tried to keep that in mind, but between all the fighting and missions and grieving, he’d failed to keep Remus close (just as he’d failed to notice Peter bleeding Pettigrew turning to treason, but that was for another day).

 

“You all right?” Remus asked, carefully, scrutinizing him.

James huffed out a breathy laugh, shaking his head dismissively. “I really shouldn’t be the one you ask that.”

“Which is why I’m asking,” Remus retorted, pointedly. “James Potter is human, too.”

James gave him a look, brown and hazel meeting for a moment. “I’m fine, Moony.” At the glare he received, he relented: “Well, not fine, of course. But I’m not hiding my inner angst behind a façade, I swear.”

“You’re the expert in that, of course.” Remus teased, his eyes still sharp.

 James pulled a face. “Whatever phase I may or may not have gone through at the end of fifth year does not count as inner angst.”

“No, of course not,” Remus nodded amiably. “ _L'intensité de l'amour est une question de mesure à l'intérieur de chacun_ …”

The switch to (accented) French was never a good one, and James immediately whirled around to Sirius.

“Padfoot! What does le intensity of l’amour est une question of mesure at l’interior of chacun mean?”

“Beg your pardon?” Sirius blinked.

 

Remus, pleasantly, repeated the sentence in actual French, and James watched Sirius’ eyes light up with an amused sparkle with a mix of fond relief and apprehension.

“He’s saying your eyes look remarkably like the delicious warmth of chocolate today.” Sirius said, smooth as you please, complete and utter bullshit.

“Do they now?” James inquired, coming to a halt so that Sirius had to stop abruptly right behind him. He spun around on his heel, leaning in and whispering dramatically in an exaggeratedly seductive voice: “Tell me all about those delicious eyes of mine, dearest.” 

Sirius’ momentarily surprised smile hit James with a wave of Hogwarts nostalgia, before he played along, lowering his voice: “ _Tes yeux brillent des milles feux de toutes les étoiles de ma constellation, mon cher_.”

Remus snorted a tad too loudly, covering his mouth to stop from outright cackling, and James caught Lily’s bright-eyed grin with a quick wink before turning back to his apparent “lover”.

“Oh, Monsieur, you say the boldest things!”

The hand to the forehead was a nice touch, in his humble opinion. Sirius’ eyes shone bright with entertained laughter, but he didn’t concede defeat, gripping James’ shoulders theatrically and throwing his hair back like the heroine of a black and white movie.

“ _Quels obstacles infranchissables nous séparent!_ ” Sirius exclaimed mournfully, refusing to meet James’ eyes. “ _Ah! Je ne peux pas vous faire une telle injustice!_ ”

James reached out to turn his face back to him, which Sirius did with great show of reluctance, although both their shoulders were shaking with repressed laughter. 

“Us? Separated! Impossible, surely! What is this monster that dares break my fragile maiden heart?”

“Why, you know it all too well.” Sirius said, switching to a delicately accented English. “It is that loathsome Countess of Evans, of course, to whom you have been forcefully betrothed!”

Remus gave up on silence, letting his head fall back to snicker properly at the very authentic display, snowflakes coating his ruffled hair with glistening white. Lily, whose hair flamed scarlet against the snow, took another approach to the situation, composing herself enough to step forwards grandly.

“Who scorns the name of the Countess?”

James let out a loud gasp, more to cover his brief break in composure than anything else, and Sirius jumped away from him as though scalded.

“ _Vous!_ ”

“You, you foul sinful little cockroach!” Lily exclaimed, indignantly. “Are you trying yet again to defile my fiancé?” 

“Oh! Oh!” James cried, helplessly. “I feel quite faint!” 

“Your fiancé?” Sirius barked, lurching forwards. “Why, you immoral woman, I ought to…”

“I’d like to see you try!” Lily sneered imperiously, draping her shawl around her as though it were a fur coat. 

“Darling, no!” James shouted, throwing himself gracelessly at Sirius and knocking them both down into the snow with a heavy thump. 

 

Immediately, Lily burst out laughing, doubling over to lean on Remus, who was still shaking silently with helpless peals of laughter. From where he was uncomfortably collapsed on Sirius’ arm, James could feel his chest heaving with mirth, his view of his friend’s face restricted to his crinkled eyes and dark strands of hair lightly spattered with snow.

It took them a while to calm down, Sirius and James especially- getting up from the ground proved quite difficult. By the time they’d ran out of air to choke on, James managed to roll off his co-marauder and get up on wobbly legs, swaying briefly as he took a gulp of cool air. 

“You’re completely fucking bonkers,” Lily chuckled, patting James’ coat to rid him of all the excessive snow that now clung to it.

“Now, now, Evans.” James protested, beaming at the flashing green eyes in front of him. “That’s hardly a nice way to treat your husband.”

In response, lovely Evans shoved him back into the snow, where Sirius properly howled with hilarity. James was too weak to get up on his own, so Remus eventually had to haul them both up, drenched and shivering with tired giggles.

 

“I think my bandages came undone,” Sirius coughed, leaning on James as they trudged up the hill through the now heavy snow. James cast him a look, the almost forgotten buzz of hysterical laughter still coursing through him. Sirius didn’t look upset; thankfully- he mentioned it as an after-thought, nothing more.

“Typical,” James muttered, nudging his best friend so that their arms knocked together. Sirius knocked back gently, burying his nose in his coat.

“How long is this gonna last?”

James shrugged. “Not too long, as long as you don’t start propositioning anyone.”

 

 It wasn’t what he really meant, of course, and Sirius shot him a knowing look. 

“I hate this kind of bullshit bureaucracy.” Sirius huffed, morosely.

“I know,” James replied, sympathetically. “I know.” Then, lightly: “Eternal rebel Sirius Black, and all that.”

The corners of Sirius’ mouth twitched upwards. “You know that Remus was suggesting that I settle down, the other day?” 

“With _Remus_?” James asked, eyes widening exaggeratedly.

“No, you twat, n- oh, fuck off.” Sirius started, before stopping mid eyeroll at the look on James’ face. “I thought you were being serious.”

“I’m always perfectly serious.” James protested. 

“No, you’re perfectly James.” Sirius retorted, his eyes sparkling.

James paused for a moment before groaning at the terrible joke, half laughing nevertheless. “Is this first year again?”

“If it was, I’d still be a head taller than you.” Sirius smirked.

“Shut up, you were never that much taller than me.” James said, his eleven year old self’s ego bruised.

Sirius raised a condescending brow, in that professional way that James could never hope to imitate.

“Puberty did you a lot of favours, Mr. Potter.”

“Shut the fuck up,” James harrumphed, grinning even as he protested. “Puberty hit you too.”

“Yes, but see, I was _always_ this devilishly attractive.” Sirius said, wisely. “Everyone was in love with me even before I gained cheekbones.”

“Watch your ego, mate,” James laughed, shaking his head. “Although I’ll admit you’re probably not wrong.” 

“James Potter, warning others about their egos? My, my, Prongs, I thought I’d never see the day.” Sirius tutted, before flashing him a very smug smile. “Honestly, though, you do know you were hardly the first of the Marauders to have gained Miss Evans’ appreciation?”

James gave him a look, half stunned and half amused. “No bloody way.” 

“Ask her if you’re not going to believe me,” Sirius said calmly, dark hair whipping around his face as they came to a halt behind the other two, “But I do believe Miss Evans herself won’t dispute the facts.”

“Miss Evans will most certainly dispute whatever Messirs Potter and Black are discussing,” Lily interrupted, grinning, “But would like them to shut the fuck up and come grab this blasted Portkey first.”

“Lovely woman you married, Prongs.” Sirius muttered aloud, yelping when Lily swatted at his head. 

 

They grasped the old bicycle tightly, four gloved hands coming forwards to grip various parts of it, and suddenly the wind was biting at them almost painfully, snow obscuring James’ sight and making his eyes water. He focused his blurry vision on the streak of flaming red contorting wildly next to him, Lily’s long hair almost too bright against the white.

Then they were off in a whirlwind of snow and magic, making James’ stomach flip and his body shudder.

\--

A sickening jolt brought them back into focus, dropping more or less gracefully to their feet as the bicycle clattered to the pristine marble floor.

James and Sirius, used to escapades on his motorbike, were the most steady on their feet- James grabbed Remus before he could fall over, spotting Lily clutching Sirius’ elbow out of the corner of his eye.

The sudden rush of dry heat was a welcome change from the wet cold they’d been in, but the change was so abrupt it made James’ face burn. He looked around as Remus regained his balance, eyes going up to the high ceilings and glistening chandeliers before examining the empty room they’d appeared in. All in all, the place rather reminded him of Gringotts’ entrance hall, or perhaps some part of the Ministry. 

“They really went all out with this, didn’t they?” Lily asked wryly, translating James’ thoughts. Sirius, by her side, set his jaw. 

“For a safe house, it does seem a bit luxurious.” Remus noted, releasing James’ arm. “Perhaps it’s one of Professor Slughorn’s country villas.”

The whole group snickered at that- more at the idea of Horace Slughorn partaking in a resistance movement than anything else- before sobering. There was a neat pile of assorted oddities in the corner- James carried the rusty old bicycle over to it, only then noticing the ornate golden door that definitely had not been there when they’d appeared in the room. 

“Guys.”

The trio turned towards him, moving closer with varying expressions of surprise. Remus looked thoughtful, Lily seemed intrigued, and Sirius looked distinctly ill at ease.

James paused, hand hovering above the doorknob, and then pushed it open decisively.

They’d barely stepped through the doorway when he felt the steady shift of the house prickle through the air. With sudden certainty, James knew that if he stepped back through the door, he’d find himself somewhere completely different from the room they’d emerged from.

 

“Good morning, James.” Dumbledore smiled in greeting, from where he sat amongst a small group of grim looking witches and wizards. 

The room they were in was almost a smaller copy of the Great Hall, with two long tables presided by a higher one and heavy tapestries on the walls.

“Morning.” James nodded, eyes scanning the crowd. The Prewetts were there, as were the Weasleys and the Bones- other individual faces stood out amongst the crowd, like Moody’s familiar scowl and Benjy Fenwick’s freckled face.

Next to Moody and Dumbledore sat four unfamiliar members that James recognized as part of the Ministry. Their eyes were fixed unflinchingly on Sirius, who was giving them a very cold glare over Lily’s head.

_Fucking hell_ , James thought, with feeling. From underneath the barrier he’d tried to impose, bitter resentment roared Peter’s name.

“Sirius, if you would…” Dumbledore asked gently, gesturing to the chair positioned between the two tables. 

The room quieted as James followed Lily and Remus to the front of the tables, where Fabian Prewett moved back to allow them to sit. Sirius walked briskly over to the chair, somehow conveying his mood even just by his raised head.

One of the unknown councilmen spoke up at last.

“Take a seat, Mr. Black.”

In response, Sirius gave the chair a derisive look, managing to articulate an icy: “I’d rather not, if you don’t mind.”

Moody snorted, while the councilman frowned.

“If you insist.”

With a flick of his wand, the chair vanished, leaving Sirius standing tall in front of the raised table. Lily, by James’ side, sighed. James pressed her hand sympathetically. 

Sirius wasn’t trying to be irreverent, he knew- he was just as hasty as everyone else to get the trial over with. Peter’s betrayal, however, was not something he took lightly- James knew fully that there would never be an ounce of forgiveness in his regard from Sirius, and this prim and proper trial infuriated him. How could anyone hope to summarize the extent of Sirius Black’s passions in a neat few sentences?

There was an edge of revolted pride to it, too- the thought that anyone could imagine that Sirius would ever betray his friends made him positively murderous, ironically enough. 

James just hoped the council wouldn’t start trying to guilt him, because he feared he’d have to tackle Sirius to the floor.

 

“State your full name and the reason for your presence here today.”

“Sirius Orion Black, invoked to clarify the circumstances of the deceased Peter Pettigrew’s murder.” 

Sirius’ voice was frigid, and on Peter’s name pure loathing dripped from his words. James flinched at the intensity of it, as did most of the room. The councilmen frowned.

“Mr. Black, if you could recount your narrative of the events to the jury.”

Sirius inhaled, and then begun retelling the events of that night in short, brutal terms. His story was far more coherent than when James had first heard it, but it didn’t stop his chest from constricting as if he’d been stabbed in the heart.

 

Peter, Peter, Peter. Sirius almost seemed to be avoiding saying his name, robbing him of his individuality with his generalizations. James, on the other hand, was obsessively caught on his name- how had Peter gone from _Peter_ to the heartless man that had used Sirius’ brother as a means to lure him into getting tortured? A low, throbbing pain arose in him as Sirius continued, and he closed his eyes.

He’d felt the same when Sirius had first spat out the story he was recounting now- a devastating mess of rage, pain, guilt, incredulity and heartbreak. Now, hearing Sirius’ almost monotone calm and feeling the seismic shakes of hate underneath it, he was struck more strongly than ever by the thought of Sirius actually having gone through it.

Sirius had seen all of this, done all of this, and now had to tell the story over and over to everyone who demanded it from him. Sirius had actually stood there numbly as Peter whined and pleaded, had been hit by the cruel cold of Peter’s spells, had raged as Peter taunted him, had loomed over his corpse still reeling with pain and shock. Sirius had used dark magic there, for the first time in his life, and James could muster nothing but complete understanding.

_Why Sirius_? had been his second question, devastated and wishing furiously he could have spared the eldest Black yet another painful memory to add to his large array. And yet he couldn’t help but think Sirius was the only one of them who could have saved the outcome of the fight.

 What would he have done? Tried to dissuade Peter of it? No, not that- he wouldn’t have been able to discover his betrayal in the first place, James thought darkly. His unshakeable trust in his friends would have blinded him, and perhaps in a year he’d be dead for the love of his good old pal Petey.

God, Peter…He shuddered.

 

Sirius was nearing the end of his story, and the minute, imperceptible break in his confidence brought James back to life. Blinking, he saw that the entire room had paled to various degrees, shock and dismay registered in many of the faces around him. Dumbledore looked saddened, contemplating Sirius’ face silently, while Moody grunted and shook his head.

“…at James and Lily’s house.”

Having finished, he stood back, brow furrowed as he scrutinized the council before him. James’ eyes remained on him as the council asked a few other perfunctory questions. Sirius answered them shortly, his stance firm and yet clearly eager to get it over with.

The brief interrogation lasted about ten minutes, after which the main councilman seemed satisfied. James caught the flash of tense relief in Sirius’ eyes as the wizard seemed about to dismiss him, when suddenly the witch sitting the furthest away from Moody spoke up.

 “Before we conclude, Mr. Black, I have a few precautionary questions.”

She was a small, hunched woman, with dark hair cropped into a neat bob and pale opaque grey eyes, whose one hand seemed almost shriveled. James hadn’t noticed her much for the duration of the trial, from where she’d been sitting quietly in the corner.

 

The room tensed apprehensively, as did Remus from where he sat stiffly opposite James. 

“Go ahead…” Sirius gritted out, looking as though he wouldn’t be all that upset if the chandelier somehow fell from the ceiling and crushed her to death.

“These…injuries you sustained. St-Mungos has no report of having healed any injuries, nor do any of our Healers.” The councilwoman observed him. “Is it not quite admirable that you seem in such good shape?”

 A mutter went through the assembly, and James stared at her in disbelief. Was this woman actually insinuating…?

Sirius closed his eyes and inhaled sharply, before slowly asking: “Where are you going with this?”

“I’m inquiring as to whether you have any proof of said injuries.”

Lily made an aborted movement as though she wanted to slap someone, and James quite wished she would. A hot spike of stunned anger went through him, eyes flying to Sirius in alarmed dismay.

Sirius rather looked like he wished Lily would slap the councilwoman too, but to James’ relief he merely sneered contemptuously.

“If you wanted a glimpse, you could have asked before the trial.” Sirius scowled, far too waspish for the occasion. Then, with a curled lip, he tugged off his coat and shirt, leaving him shirtless and holding his still damp clothes with a disdainful look. 

A stifled gasp went up from the room, and James blinked in surprise before having to suppress a laugh. Only Sirius Black would find a way to strip in court. 

Still, with his ravaged torso and heavily bandaged injuries, his point was pretty clear. The council muttered amongst themselves, Moody looking acutely amused now. 

“I think,” Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling, “You can put your shirt back on, Mr. Black.”

 James swore he could hear someone mutter a “please don’t” from the back of the room, but Sirius complied slowly, leaving his coat off.

“Thank you, Mr. Black.”

The councilwoman, however, had pursed her lips. “Ah, yes. Painful…My deepest sympathies.” 

Sirius twitched, his eyes conveying just where she could shove her sympathies.

“However, given certain…attributes of yours, is it not possible these injuries could have been made in an attempt at self-defense on Mr. Pettigrew’s part?”

“Did you listen to a single word I said?” Sirius barked out, floored, over the brouhaha in the room. Now, it was Remus that James had to kick under the table, because there was a bestial glint in his eye. 

Was this woman serious? James felt very strongly like punching her in the face, and damn the whole polite behavior issue. He’d been prepared to suffer through the boredom with a straight face to help Sirius, not suffer through some ghoul accusing Sirius of being…. 

“It is entirely plausible that this story was merely reversed,” the councilwoman was saying, docile. “How is the council supposed to ascertain that Mr. Black is not, in fact, the one he claims to have saved us from?”

A rumbling protest went up from the people surrounding James, and Lily clutched his hand until her knuckles turned white, green eyes blazing furiously. James himself was rather glad for the contact, if only to anchor him and avoid an accidental slip of the wand.

Sirius the traitor? _Sirius?_ Was this what wartime paranoia led to?

If the Order was meant to uphold traditional values of justice and equity, it was doing an atrocious job of it. James recalled with sudden clarity some councils he’d watched with an uncomfortable ache, and wondered what would have become of Sirius had James and Lily been killed. Sirius Black, condemned as a traitor- the mere idea made James want to strangle someone, an outraged, violent urge coursing through him.

“Is she fucking crazy?” Gideon Prewett demanded, from behind James.

 Detaching his eyes from his friend with difficulty, James managed to spare a look for the rest of the crowd. On their faces, he found only reflections of his own affront, frowns and protests issued by near all the audience. The support hit him with a wave of grim relief- he didn’t think he could take an entire assembly by himself. 

“Are you insinuating I’m the traitor?” Sirius asked, lowly, a muscle jumping in his jaw. The sight of it almost triggered James’ reflexes into action; a lifetime of fights making him all too prepared to back Padfoot up if push came to shove. His voice killed almost all the noise in the room, its sheer cutting intensity making the cosy heat of the safe house drop.

“I am not insinuating anything.”

The seemingly reasonable tone infuriated James all the more. He’d had enough of his quote unquote “pure” superiors sneering down at him since the start of the war, Death Eaters and their monologues a distasteful whisper at the back of his mind, so unshakeable in their beliefs it made James ill to the stomach, ashamed of his privilege and of wizardkind itself.

Far more conscious of interpersonal relations than his friends, it struck him then that the similarity may not have been coincidental- a tactic used precisely because it brought to mind far worse enemies than psychopathic councilmen.

 “Then fucking use Veritaserum on me, what the hell!” Sirius burst out, losing his cool before his expression went neutral again. “If you want proof, take it!”

The council was giving the witch steady glares now, Dumbledore’s smile turned to a warning frown and Moody fixing her with a squint.

Entirely unaffected, she proceeded: “I’m afraid, Mr. Black, that for people with your background, we fear your experience with Occlumency and the Dark Arts…”

 It took a split second for the room to register that they hadn’t collectively hallucinated, then James felt the bombshell drop. And yet, faster than the collective jolt, faster even than the dark, caliginous shine to Sirius’ eyes, it was he himself who shot up from his seat before anyone had had the time to react. 

 

James had been a brilliant Quidditch player- the best of his year, but also of the school. He often thought that a lot of this had to do with how he used people’s expectations against them. This was true in the physical sense, because James had a natural instinct for predicting people’s moves, but also otherwise. Often, people assumed he was simply good due to said instinct, forgetting just how intelligent James Potter really was- the greatest mistake one could make.

James was fucking clever, unfortunately for his opposition; always two steps ahead of the Quaffle, so to speak.

In situations where he acted on instinct alone, both these factors came into play. As such, he’d leapt out of his seat and advanced on the judges’ table before anyone had even moved, both an unmitigated fury and an impassive hatred motivating his move. There was a loud cry of surprise from the general ensemble, which James ignored in favour of the blood pounding in his ears, his impossibly rapid movement now followed by his hands clutching handfuls of the woman’s shirt. The witch shrieked, trying to shake loose: he lifted up from her seat so they were eye to eye. 

“James!” Remus’ voice drifted to him as though from underwater, a fruitless attempt further hindered by his own lack of conviction.

The councilwoman made a strangled noise as James pulled her further in his direction, her feet now kicking helplessly in the air as James’ arms shook slightly from the effort. Distantly, he heard shouts and his name, but it was his own voice that made silence fall again.

“You heinous _bitch_.” James hissed, the woman’s eyes wide with fear now. “You _dare_ fucking stand in front of this room and come act like Sirius is a Death Eater because of his _family_? _I_ ’m Sirius’ family- no one here thinks he’s some kind of treacherous bastard, and _neither do you._ I don’t know what you think you’re playing at, but if you open your mouth one more time, _you’ll regret it_.”

“James!” Dumbledore warned, from nearby. James kept his eyes fixed on the gasping councilwoman, his face contorted scornfully, his hold on her steel-like.

“James.” 

At Sirius’ voice, James dropped the woman unceremoniously, still seething, clenching and unclenching his fists mechanically. Sirius had stepped up to stand next to him, his face still clouded but the shadows almost gone from his eyes. They exchanged a silent look over the councilwoman’s sputtering, Sirius’ hand dropping to press James’ shoulder briefly. The burning gratitude in his eyes was thanks enough, but James accepted the gesture nonetheless. 

“Potter’s right,” Moody snapped, abruptly. “She’s playing at something all right- distracting us from _this_!” 

He’d barely jumped to his feet when a loud crashing noise came from outside of the room, causing each and every Order member in the room to whirl around in alarm. James’ wand was just about raised when the furthest wall was blown to pieces, black smoke seeping from the explosion.

Masked, cloaked figures stood in the debris; their striking figures almost seeming even more terrifying than usual against the beautifully ornate décor. Screams and shouts arose from the Order, and then suddenly the spell broke and flashes of magic were whizzing up and down the room, chaotic spell casting making the floor quake.

 

A jet of purple shot towards James, only stopped by Sirius’ quick _Protego_ , awoke him from his stupor, and the two set off with grim determination.

James had enjoyed dueling at Hogwarts, excelled at it due to his easy mastery of the wand and all its many tricks. Back when things had been bad with Snape, he’d enjoyed their clashing, the way it tested his capacity to think faster than his opponent. Magic had always been a source of good in the Potter household, something to be proud of, an extension of oneself.

Then the war had started, and with it came the realization that magic was not merely an extraordinary way of living, but also a way of causing massive destruction and pain- of killing and torturing and breaking. It had shaken James more than the others, realizing that magic in itself was not necessarily good, and it had never ceased to repulse him to see magic being misused so horrendously. Ironically, as much as he’d once enjoyed dueling, he strongly disliked battles such as these, nowadays.

Surprise attacks were the worst and most lethal form of Death Eater attack, and were as such used extremely often by Voldemort’s forces. James still preferred the group attacks to the house attacks- the fear of dying in a battle was a million times less intense than that of returning home and finding the Dark Mark floating above the empty bodies of loved ones. It was every Order member’s worst fear- not death itself, but loss.

 

There was a bang close by, and James saw Arthur Weasley topple over, spasming on the ground. He turned, about to hex the Death Eater responsible to pieces, just in time to see a vivid streak of purple fly from Lily’s wand and blow the man through a wall. She reached Arthur quickly, looking up to give Molly a rapid nod from where the woman was fiercely battling a tall blonde man, and murmured a few words that James lost in the chaos.

Remus yanked him out of the way before a green blast could hit him, and James grabbed his shoulder in thanks, finding himself in front of a large square-shouldered Death Eater that he couldn’t help but recognize, a cold spike of fear going down his spine.

Dolohov grinned, his mask shifting with the sneer, and shot out a blue flame that James quickly deflected, disgust seeping into him. You had to _mean_ an Unforgiveable to use it, had to be filled with enough hatred to do so- Death Eaters handed them out as though they were mere children’s jinxes, a revolting testimony to their utter lack of humanity.

His focus now solely on the Death Eater in front of him, he side-stepped another curse, throwing an _Incendio!_ at Dolohov’s cape. The man tossed it aside with laughable ease, and James remembered with a heavy heart just what a good dueler Antonin Dolohov was. James himself was one of the best in the Order, but he lacked the Death Eater’s skill for non-verbal incantations, and the man’s death toll did no wonders to reassure him.

The missed shot had left Dolohov open to fire his signature spell at him. In a rapid slashing movement, several bursts of purple flame rose to engulf James, who narrowly avoided the first two by meeting them mid-range with a shielding spell. He wasn’t fast enough to stop the last one, tumbling out of the way a moment too late, and felt the heat burn sharply at his left arm.

With a curse, James staggered upwards, firing an _Impedimenta!_ his way to buy time. Dolohov spun aside, throwing another lot of flames in his direction- this time, James managed to divert them all to the ceiling, but it meant he had to stumble backwards, Dolohov prowling forwards.

Shit. Dolohov wasn’t one to be beaten by brute strength alone, and he was hardly as stupid as you’d expect from someone of his sadistic nature. 

What were they after? Dumbledore was here- a clear target, of course, but then again…The attack seemed unusually nonsensical for an unfortunately well-organized terrorist regime- and James only recognized a few of the familiar figures he usually saw in these kind of attacks. The “Dark Lord” and his favoured Death Eaters were nowhere in sight: Malfoy, the Lestranges, Avery, and others who’d been by Riddle’s side in his Knights of Walpurgis days. There was something very off about the whole attack, as though it were a mock version of the normal ones…A rehearsal, perhaps. 

Dolohov unleashed a blur of green in his direction, forcing James to throw up a rapid _Protego Maxima!_ and twist aside. The shield was strong enough that the spell bounced back, and in Dolohov’s momentary distraction James threw an _Incacerata_! his way that the Death Eater didn’t manage to completely avoid, his next burst of flames consequently easier to counter with a blast of water. 

Smoke arose from the encounter, blurring James’ glasses. He assumed Dolohov would be taking advantage of their loss of visual contact to try and surprise him, but James’ Outstandings in Transfiguration hadn’t been for nothing. A fond smile breaking through his concentration for a second, he sent a mental prayer up to his ex-Professor as he directed his magic at the smoke. In an instant, it had reformed and solidified into a swarm of glinting daggers, allowing James and Dolohov’s eyes to meet over them just as they whizzed towards the Death Eater, directed by a rapid Oppungo Jinx.

Dolohov angrily batted the lot away as they came towards him, then had to use an explosive spell when it became clear that the daggers were being awfully persistent. James took the opportunity to yell _Confringo!_ rather grimly, his blasting curse halted just before reaching his target. His luck ended there- Dolohov’s next barrel of curses rained down on him, making him block left and right as he moved back. His concentration on Dolohov, he didn’t notice someone else’s Flagrante Curse deflected towards him. His wand suddenly burning with searing heat, he dropped it on reflex.

 

Time froze, and even behind the mask Dolohov’s leer shone through. James swore, wrapping his hand in his cloak and reaching for his wand, but before he’d even managed to crouch down a _Sectumsempra!_ hit him square in the chest.

In a flash of nostalgic pain, James had staggered back. It felt as though his opponent had just come at him with a sword- a feeling he well remembered from his matches with Snape in their Hogwarts days. Dolohov was obviously enjoying himself: his movements were carefully carving a D into James’ chest, blood spurting from the cut and making his head spin. Gritting his teeth and straining not to keel over, James tried to grasp at his wand once more, but Dolohov brought his wand up with a slash of white light, cutting a neat line up James’ face and knocking his glasses clean off. 

James went down with a crash, falling over the table the jury had been sitting behind and crying out as his head hit the cold marble floor. Scarlet was flowing from his chest and cheek, his eyes blinking in an effort not to pass out. He could hear Dolohov gliding forwards casually, obviously enjoying his newest victim’s torment. _Fucking hell_.

There was a sudden shout, and even from where he was lying flat on his back, James could see the sparks from a nearby explosion. Straining to stay aware of his surroundings, he managed to see more flashes and beams of light coming from nearby before a loud crack reached his ears, accompanied by shouts on the other side of the room. Then there were footsteps hurrying towards him, and Lily’s pale face appeared above him, red hair hanging into his face as she examined him anxiously.

 

He tried to smile somewhat reassuringly, his failure bringing a flash of relief to her expression before she clenched her jaw.

 “Hullo, Lils.”

“Don’t move.”

She drew back, an unreadable light in her green eyes as she took in the effects of the curse. James knew she was thinking back to its inventor. There’d been a time where she would have, if not supported, at least understood its use- now, the look on her face was unforgiving.

“ _Vulnera Sanetur. Vulnera Sanetur. Vulnera Sanetur._ ”

The song-like incantation surprised James, but then again he’d never heard the counter-curse first hand. Poppy Pomfrey had always used other means to heal the nasty cuts they got from Snape, and it was hardly as though Snivellus himself would have volunteered the information.

The first mutter made no visible difference, but he realized momentarily that the flow of blood was slowing. The next made a more noticeable one: stinging pain coursed through his wounds as though someone was sanitizing them, and then he felt them start to stop bleeding. By the third time, something seemed to start knitting them closed. It was excruciatingly sore, but James had the notion that Lily had just saved his life.

“You’re going to need dittany to be applied, or there’ll be scars.”

He hadn’t been conscious of her moving back to his side. Her voice was still worried as she looked him over, and he couldn’t help but shoot her a rather more sincere smile as she brusquely cleared the blood off him.

“Ta for that. I owe you one.”

“You owe me shit all.” Lily replied, rather fiercely, but a hint of a smile appeared on her face as he held out a shaking hand to be pulled up.

“Fight’s not over yet.”

She let him use her for balance as he got up on trembling legs, then passed him three small pills.

“From Remus. He dropped them off a while back. They’re pain-killers.” 

James swallowed them thankfully, then ducked as Lily whirled around and blasted a Death Eater nearby.

“What did you do to Dolohov, by the way?”

“Not much.” Lily responded with a frown. “I jinxed him and then flung him across the room, but he’s mostly unharmed.” 

She turned back to James with a searching look, her eyes almost glowing amidst all the magic being thrown about. “There’s something very wrong about this whole fight.”

James nodded. “It feels like some sort of practice fight. A test trial, or something.”

 Lily’s eyes widened suddenly, her grip on his shoulder tightening momentarily. “James! That’s what they’re doing!”

“A trial?” James asked, his thoughts struggling to keep up now that the pain had finally begun to dull. 

“A _test trial_.” Lily stressed, continuing. “They’re testing new candidates. That explains why so many familiar faces are missing, and why they don’t seem to have any clear objective." 

“And as soon as the tide starts to turn, they’ll be off…” James added, catching up.

“Exactly. The others are more than happy to kill everyone they can, but it’s not their main purpose. They just want to see what their Junior Death Eater Scouts are capable of.”

James examined her silently for a moment, mulling it over. It explained the whole oddity of the situation, but also disturbed him. If the Death Eaters were capable of crashing a secret meeting for a practice run, who knew how many inside agents they had? 

“Let’s hope Peter was the best they had.” Lily said, dryly, pulling her hair up. “Where’s your wand?”

“It’s been cursed,” James said, alert once more. He nabbed Lily’s wand quickly from between her teeth, halting the curse and picking his wand up with relief. Using Lily’s wand was surprisingly easy; a testament to their own connection, but it was hers. A bit shorter than James’, swishier, more apt for charms than transfiguration- James was far more at ease with his own mahogany wand.

“Time to turn that tide, huh?” Lily said, a wry smile on her lips. She had his glasses in her hands.

“Come on, Evans. After beating my poor arse a million times in duels, a bunch of blokes in masks should be easy, no?” James teased, the pain almost an after-thought now.

Remus took some very strong doses, unsurprisingly. It wasn’t a cheerful thought. He wiped his glasses against a non-bloodsoaked part of his cloak and put them back on.

“You say that as though you were a challenge to begin with.” Lily retorted, smirking.

 

They climbed back over the table into the mess of fighting, side by side. Having someone at your back made fighting immensely less difficult, a strategy James and Sirius were known to use in almost every scuffle they found themselves in.

The Death Eaters were definitely tiring now, confirming the trainee theory. Still, that hardly meant it was time to relax: sensing that they had little time to prove their worth to their superiors, the younger additions to Voldemort’s ranks were fighting more savagely now, desperate to rise above their fellows. James saw several Order members go down heavily, and it was only his quick shield that stopped Fabian Prewett from getting hit from behind.

Remus was fighting close to Dumbledore, as Lily pointed out, putting him in the midst of a heated fight. He was holding his own well, of course- Remus had always been rather excellent at Defense Against The Dark Arts. They’d often laughingly told him that he should’ve just replaced the professor before Snape tried to- not that Snape was particularly interested in the “defense” part as much as the Dark Arts.

 

Instinctively, of course, it wasn’t Remus that James’s eyes sought out among the crowd. It took him a while to sort through the blurs of movement and magic, but he zoned in on Sirius’ dark hair and pale figure relatively fast- he was still uncloaked after the trial, leaving him the only person in the room in a shirt. He was locked in a fierce duel with a tall, square-shouldered Death Eater that James didn’t recognize from afar, hair whipping around his face as he dodged curses this way and that. 

Sirius had never played Quidditch in Hogwarts, a loss which James had mourned. It was odd, actually, Sirius wasn’t half bad at Quidditch, and he was a damned good flier. James would’ve taken him as a Beater had he asked, but he’d never gone to a single try-out, for mysterious reasons. It wasn’t even that he disliked Quidditch, like Lily, who was a brilliant flier but didn’t like the sport- Sirius had been commentator for four years in a row, alternating between surprisingly pointed game analysis and ridiculous commentary that caused several in-game flying accidents. No, there’d never been a clear explanation for the lack of Sirius in the Gryffindor team, but James hadn’t minded too much. Sirius had his bike, and James had his broom.

 Still, lack of Quidditch aside, Sirius had extremely sharp reflexes that were at their most striking when he dueled. To James’ long-time jealously, he’d been the first of their year to master non-verbal spells, which everyone went on about for ages. Sirius had a certain amount of natural affinity that most other people lacked, and he was at his peak when he fought.

There was something oddly musical to it, James mused, watching Sirius dance through the waves of curses coming his way and reply with an agile flick of the wrist. The Death Eater sent a roaring flame his way, and Sirius leapt aside- even without seeing him, James could almost hear the taunting laugh that followed. As the Death Eater raised his arm again, a glowing light shone from Sirius’ wand, blinding him momentarily. The man’d barely paused to squint when his entire body seized up, as though turned to stone.

There was a thump nearby, and James automatically whipped out a jelly-legs jinx towards the Death Eater, who toppled over with a groan. Lily followed him with a disarming spell, snapping the wand in two before tossing it away, wiping soot off her face as magic crackled through the air.

“Perhaps focus on your own safety and not your beloved Padfoot’s?”

 “You ask the impossible, my dear.” James laughed, rubbing the soot off her nose. Lily rolled her eyes but let him do so, her eyes alert and her nose scrunched.

When he turned away, he couldn’t help but check to see where Sirius was. Strangely, he’d reappeared much closer, and James caught a glimpse of his determined face as he spun around. Then he blinked.

 

Sirius wasn’t dressed in black, and Sirius’ hair wasn’t that short, and he most certainly didn’t have half a Death Eater mask dangling from his neck.

“Fuck, _no_.” James hissed, horror seeping into him as his senses seemed to dull. Regulus Black was here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Monsieur Black Bis has arrived! I'm very excited about writing Regulus, although I'm afraid we'll only really see him in a while...First big battle scene in the fic, though- that took a while to write! As always, comments and questions @quidfree.tumblr.com are much appreciated; feel free to drop by.


	5. A Place To Hide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regulus Black proves a complicated topic, Lily and Remus travel to suburban England, and Lily's inner thoughts spin in all directions. There is a conversation with a very old man, and four very different minds wondering about the future. Importantly, also: Lily refuses to let Peter's ghost win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *inhales*
> 
> Been a while, hasn't it? I am so sorry for the delay. I've been having a busy year, and if I'm being frank my depression hasn't helped. I get distracted and feel like my writing is insufficient, so I put off all my projects. Anyway: here is a chapter much awaited but probably not up to scratch, although it is pretty damn long. Love, Q.

Chapter Four: A Place To Hide

**_“I am not worried, Harry,” said Dumbledore, his voice a little stronger despite the freezing water. “I am with you.”--_** J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

 

\----

 

__

_Remus drooped in her arms again, making a pained noise, and Lily's arm and leg ached- eyes filling with desperate tears, she set her jaw and racked her brains for somewhere safe, somewhere away from the Order-_

 

_When they Apparated, it was in Privet Drive, right next to a lamppost, with a loud cracking noise._

 

\----

 

James had barely sworn loudly next to her when Lily nearly caught Regulus Black's eye. James' stricken expression suddenly made a lot more sense, Lily reflected bleakly as her stomach dropped. What the fuck was the younger Black doing in this fight?

 

James, however, seemed anything but surprised. Lily clenched her fist a tad helplessly, a familiar pang of unease in her chest. There were some things between the Marauders that she would never be a part of, and Regulus Black was one of them. Sirius had lived through the worst of his family drama right at the point that Lily utterly despised them, and he was an immensely private person- the other Marauders were the only ones who'd ever been allowed access to that part of him, and even then she suspected only James really knew the whole story. Unsurprising- it was his house Sirius had gone to, after all.

 

Lily knew that Sirius hated his family, and guilted a lot about his brother, but then again so did the entire student body at Hogwarts. It was difficult not to notice the steady stream of Howlers and the regular fights Sirius got into with various members of the Slytherin House. When it came to the in-depth story, however, she was sort of clueless: Sirius had been eager to move on, and she'd never asked.

 

Regulus Black, therefore, was somewhat of a complete stranger to Lily. She'd never really crossed ways with him, and hadn't noticed him much before they'd left school. He was still in Hogwarts, she thought, or perhaps he'd just left? Regardless, he was a year or so younger than Sirius, quiet and sullen, from what she knew. She'd rarely felt like discussing with a Black- if Sirius was the nicest they got, fifth year Lily would have sneered, she didn't want to see the rest of them.

 

She knew Sirius' cousins were very involved with the Death Eaters; Bellatrix Lestrange had become somewhat of a second-in-command to Voldemort himself, and was renowned for being a sickeningly cruel tormentor to her victims, whilst Narcissa Malfoy and her husband were equally fervent supporters of his cause. There was another cousin, Andromedea, whose letters made Sirius cackle with laughter, but who seemed to keep away from any interaction with the wizarding world. Lily'd sort of forgotten Regulus, or at least forgotten that he'd not yet joined the enemy ranks.

 

Knowing Sirius, seeing Regulus would break his heart. It was in Sirius' nature to love his close ones fiercely, and Lily guessed Regulus still remained up there with his other brothers in terms of loyalty, regardless of Sirius's recent actions. Lily knew she'd always carry a distant hope that her sister would see the light one day, and so understood perfectly how horrible it must be for Sirius to find himself on the opposite side of the war from the little brother he still loved. With a sick feeling, she noted the conveniently timed attack- what a coincidence that Regulus Black would be tested on the day of his brother's trial.

 

A blur shot by her face, and she ducked to avoid it. Shit.

 

Meeting James' eyes, she grimaced. If Sirius saw him... Her husband (husband!)'s face was grim, shuttered. He looked rather sickly himself, as if the sight of Regulus Black held some toxic element that rotted insides away.

 

"What do we do?"

 

"Win the fight, first," James said, darkly. "Just- watch Sirius."

 

Lily nodded succinctly, eyes flicking back to the room as she ducked under another spell. Regulus was no longer to be seen, mask probably on again, but Sirius' raven hair was now nearby, whipping wildly around his face as he flung an array of curses at a particularly sturdy Death Eater heading towards Dumbledore.

 

The fight was nearing an end, as more and more colourful pops signaled witches and wizards Apparating away, carrying the injured with them. The Death Eaters were doing the same, obviously not willing to lose too many to the fight, but a core number of them had remained, rather purposefully- Regulus was one of them.

 

James'd been right, then, Lily thought grimly, hitting a Disapparating Death Eater square in the jaw with a jinx. This was an initiation of sorts- which explained the apparent youth of a number of the remaining Death Eaters.

 

It all happened extremely fast.

 

One moment she was still surveying the fight with a relatively quiet mind, the next someone was shouting and the ceiling came crashing down, plunging the room into darkness and chaos, screams and howling coming from everywhere. Lily's pulse raced, wand glowing fitfully despite herself, illuminating the obscurity around her with shadowy white. Flashes of light showed curses being thrown haphazardly around, everyone suddenly rendered careless by fear.

 

"LILY!"

 

Someone was shouting her name, James, maybe, from across the debris. Lily's chest squeezed with worried relief, fighting the urge to scream and wave.

 

"JAMES?"

 

There was no audible response over the ruckus, and Lily swallowed down her panic and gripped her wand more tightly.

 

With care, she walked slowly forwards, shining her light around her like a torch, waiting for the sign of someone near.

 

The first person she spotted was a woman crushed by the ceiling at her feet, red pulp leaking from her skull, her hands writhing with pain. Her silver mask lay by her side. Lily felt nauseous, but turned away. She had no sympathy to spare on those who wished genocide upon her kind.

 

The next thing she spotted was Sirius, wrestling a Death Eater to the ground, his wand out of reach. She raised her wand ready to defend, but the Death Eater gave a loud moan of pain and collapsed, Sirius standing upright with a wince she caught, blood seeping from his nose as he looked around for his wand.

 

He was too busy to notice the flash of dark near him- the same hair, the same build.

 

Lily surged forwards, but it was too late. Regulus fired off a blast of bright red, and it hit Sirius with a hollow thud; only that wasn't Sirius, it was a shield, because someone running closer had cast a Protego.

 

Lily's light hovered between them, her breath quick as she clambered closer, tripping over debris and bodies.

 

Sirius had been knocked back by the impact of the two colliding, somewhere to the side where Lily could no longer see him, so her eyes flew to Regulus' slight figure as he threw a jinx out towards Sirius' defender.

 

The defender blocked the spell with purpose, but Lily recognized the deflecting tactic. Remus.

 

With a sudden burn, her leg collapsed under her, and her wand's light went black. Fucking fuck- someone had just skimmed her with a paralyzing spell. Fuck.

 

Lily shuffled upright, wincing in pain as her numb leg shook urgently. She got up just in time to meet a second spell mid-flight, the two exploding mid-air in a bang of green and blue.

 

She didn't have the time for this, Lily thought, fear and anger mixing as she stumbled forwards. She raised her wand again, squinting to see amidst the flashes of magic. Remus was rushing towards where Sirius was stirring slowly, and he hadn't noticed, Lily realized- he wasn't aware that their aggressor had a specific target.

 

"REMUS!"

 

He didn't hear her over the bang of a spell collapsing a lone pillar right above him. With a startled yell, both he and Sirius moved out of her sight- she saw the tell-tale strain of a shield, and Alice Longbottom's voice checking their state. Lily, instead, turned resolutely back to where Regulus had been, but she couldn't see him anymore.

 

Her mistake was spending too long looking for him- suddenly, another Death Eater was next to her, blasting a deadly-looking purple jet of magic right at her. Lily twisted her body reflexively away, just barely avoiding the hit straight to the chest, crying out in pain as her arm went rigid.

 

The Death Eater fell backwards with a thump. Lily strained against tears to move painfully away, her arm agonizingly sore. A flash of pale skin nearby- Sirius. They needed to get him out. He was still badly injured.

 

Sirius had just passed by when she caught sight of a shadow on his tail. Regulus.

 

With a groan of fear and pain, Lily gritted her teeth and stumbled after them. Still, she was going too slowly- she saw, chest heaving with fear, Sirius's bloodied features excited by the action, whirling around to help another Order member out, and the shadow creep closer, wand out, silver mask glinting warningly. He was inching closer, and her throat was constricted, and she wouldn’t-

 

Like a Bludger, something barreled out of nowhere to knock Sirius down, managing to cushion his fall and avoid the green light all in one move. Lily's heart thudded. The tell-tale mess of black hair was instantly recognizable.

 

She had to get them out of here, she realized. Regulus was targeting his brother, no doubt about it- they wouldn’t be able to just avoid him endlessly, and their time was running out. No, Sirius had to get out, now, if any of them wanted to make it out. Lily strained to regain her voice, tried to get the words out, finally managed to get a grip.

 

"JAMES! Take Sirius and go!"

 

His head went up, unable to find her. She ignored the throbbing pain to raise her voice again.

 

"TAKE SIRIUS AND GO!"

 

"Evans," Sirius began, furious, from somewhere, but James nodded, grimly, grabbing hold of his arm. The last thing she saw of them was Sirius' outraged expression stark against the light, and then they were whirring into nothingness, James clutching his best friend's arm like a limpet.

 

Apparating was dangerous with Sirius in this state, but far less than leaving him here- besides, Lily knew James wouldn't take him far. Their figures blurred.

 

She caught sight, at the last moment, of the shadow's arm raise, targeting the vanishing duo, but she hadn't been alone in watching him. He went down with a hollow thud amidst the fighting, and Remus' eyes were steely as Lily tried to reach them.

 

Flashes of light dizzied her as she struggled over to them, her vision dimming and sharpening progressively and her grip on her wand tight. She couldn’t see any motion from either of the figures, both taut and stony-faced.

 

"- very easy for you to die right now," Remus was saying, gravely, as she came closer. He had his wand to Regulus' chest, his voice low but just audible over the noise. "But that's not how we work in the Order, and Sirius wouldn't want you dead. Do you understand that? The brother you tried to murder would rather die than kill you, Regulus."

 

Regulus remained silent, eyes unreadable behind the mask, flicking around. Remus' features were stiff, his knuckles white around his wand- he hated this kind of situation. Lily finally managed to reach his side with difficulty, grabbing hold of his elbow in what she hoped was a reassuring grasp.

 

"Remus."

 

"Lily."

 

They looked back at Regulus in unison. Lily could feel the tension in her veins, a million alternatives playing out in her head. They wouldn't harm him, but then what? What could be done?

 

Nearby, a bang. The room was becoming quieter, less and less people remaining as the fight drew to a close. Lily and Remus stood side by side above Regulus Black, whose mask glinted in the dark, just above the light of Remus' wand.

 

In the end, she supposed it was their own fault- in thinking of Sirius, they'd forgotten their own value in the eyes of the Death Eaters.

 

Regulus had stirred; just a twitch- Lily knew with sudden and complete certainty they were in danger, but it was too late. A whip of orange knocked her over, and Remus cried out in pain. She lunged forwards to grab hold of Regulus, as he tried to roll away, pulling Remus behind her. Regulus was straining against her grip, but she was holding him tightly, mind working to try and rationalize the situation. If she used him as a shield, the Death Eaters wouldn’t be able to attack, and they’d have time to Disapparate-

 

“Lily,” Remus gritted out, urgently, “They won’t-”

 

Regulus’ thrashing had doubled, and it was that that made her suddenly and belatedly realize her mistake: the Death Eaters facing them couldn’t care less about Regulus Black’s survival.

 

The burst of magic came too fast for her to deflect. It was Remus who launched himself forwards, knocking them both out of the way and taking most of the brunt of the attack onto himself, a groan of pain following the action. She went down below him, only a glimpse of Regulus’ wide dark eyes serving as any indication of his own reaction.

 

They crumpled to the debris-filled floor in unison, jolted by the impact.

 

Shit, shit, shit.

 

She scrambled to her feet, arm now on fire once more, frantically grabbing forwards both to block Remus and to catch up to Regulus, but he'd scurried backwards, and Remus had gone limp.

 

"Shit!" Lily cursed, out loud, fighting off the panic. "Stupefy!"

 

One of their assailants fell back, the sound making her shift her stance with a glance towards Remus' slumped figure. He looked unconscious; she prayed he was only unconscious. If Remus died saving Regulus Black’s life, she didn’t think she’d ever be able to speak to Sirius again.

 

They had to get out, now, but she couldn't see who was waiting to lash out. Her pulse thudded as she slowly crouched down to reach out to Remus- the moment she was close to him, several spells shot nearby. She blocked them with a neat shield, thanking Professor Flitwick silently for making her a perfectionist where charms were concerned, and grabbed hold of Remus's arm, hoisting him upwards.

 

Another wave of spells; another shield, and this time she Disaparated immediately, closing her eyes and thinking of Godric's Hollow as hard as she could. It wouldn't be fast enough; she hoped fervently it would at least spare them the worst effect of the spells.

 

The world spun faster; she caught sight of colourful flashes around them, and then they were going- but no, something had grabbed hold of Remus. Lily screamed, the effort of upholding the Disapparating and shaking off their follower too much, but didn't lose hold of either, straining against the blow. The man was pulling Remus down, but no, they were gone, except he was still there, and she had to shake him off before- Godric's Hollow, in her mind's eye, became a danger, and she desperately tried to think of a safe place they...

 

They were over London, all of a sudden, and Lily recognized Diagon Alley. Not a safe place, but if she could shake the man off... Everything came into focus, slowly, and with a final effort, Lily gave a mighty kick in the Death Eater's direction. He struggled, but his grip around Remus' waist loosened- she kicked again, making a vaguely hysterical frustrated noise, and suddenly Remus was much lighter and the man was gone. They were off again, but where- London was teeming with Death Eaters, and she couldn't go back to Godric's straight away, after the man had caught a glimpse of it.

 

Remus drooped in her arms again, making a pained noise, and Lily's arm and leg ached- eyes filling with desperate tears, she set her jaw and racked her brains for somewhere safe, somewhere away from the Order-

 

When they Apparated, it was in Privet Drive, right next to a lamppost, with a loud cracking noise.

 

Petunia Evans-Dursley, out in the garden with an eye on the neighbour's chrysanthemums, looked up, and then her eyes went wide.

 

" _What are you_ -"

 

"Tuney," Lily groaned, Remus slipping from her arms, "Please."

 

Her sister’s chest shook with surprise, her mouth tight with indignation, but her eyes moved from Remus' pale prone body to Lily's limp arm and bleeding leg, and when they met Lily's green ones something seemed to shift in her, ever so slightly.

 

"Get inside before the neighbours see you, for God's sake," Petunia hissed, setting down her clippers. "Hurry!"

 

Lily almost passed out from sheer relief.

 

\--

 

Their injuries weren't too severe; nothing life-threatening. Lily unjinxed her leg rapidly, healed her arm, and then stiffly milled about the Dursley kitchen brewing a potion to give Remus, who'd awoken but stayed pale and shivering. All the while, Petunia hovered in the doorframe tight-lipped, her eyes skittering to the door nervously and examining Lily with unwavering criticism.

 

"Here," Lily mumbled, as Remus gratefully swallowed down the potion. "We'll get going as soon as you feel better."

 

Remus nodded wryly, with a look at their pristine surroundings. Lily sighed in relief as his cheeks began to regain some colour, then straightened and met her sister's eyes.

 

"I suppose this is all to do with that," Petunia said, clipped. "That war of yours."

 

"Yes," Lily answered, wondering when her sister had last loved her. "We were ambushed."

 

"That's not your," Petunia said, with a nudge of her chin in Remus's direction. Lily recognized the tone- she meant James.

 

"James and Sirius got out at another time. This is Remus. You met him at the..."

 

She couldn't quite bring up the wedding, the memories too sour. Petunia's nose twitched.

 

"Your ...husband left you like this?"

 

"Don't," Lily snapped, before catching herself. "I told him to go. Sirius was gravely injured."

 

"Sirius," Petunia repeated. From the way her shoulders had gone up, Lily guessed she remembered the name. "He's the..."

 

"James'," Lily began, before realizing she could have just stopped there. The idea made her insides squirm. "James' best friend. And mine."

 

Petunia sniffed. She'd caught the hesitation.

 

"And this sort of thing happens often?"

 

"We're fighting a war, Tuney," Lily responded, losing her calm. "My friends get murdered every day to keep people like you and Vernon safe- Muggles."

 

Petunia's cheeks went pink, with anger. The word, after all this time...

 

"We never asked you to."

 

"Yes," Lily managed, closing her eyes. "I'll keep that in mind the next time I find myself facing a Death Eater."

 

"We can go," Remus said, mildly, cutting through the tension. "Thank you ever so much for having us, Mrs Dursley. We won't forget it."

 

Petunia swallowed, uncertain how to respond to the politeness- to the conversation she was used to having.

 

"Well," she began, harshly at first, then hesitating. "Well, I wasn't going to leave you on the street for everyone to gawk at!"

 

"Of course not," Remus agreed, standing up slowly. He set his teacup down, carefully. "And we're very grateful."

 

"As well you should be," Petunia said, then seemed unable to say anything else. Lily exhaled slowly, turning to her friend.

 

"You sure you're good?"

 

"Assuredly," Remus smiled. "I'm sure the husbands are worried sick."

 

Lily smiled stiffly at the term, too tense to really laugh fondly at her boys. She needed to say her goodbyes.

 

"I'll go check the room's…aura," Remus stated, with perfect seriousness, and eclipsed himself without further ado. "Until we meet again, Mrs Dursley."

 

Then it was just her and Tuney.

 

"Where's the other one?" Petunia blurted out, before Lily could think about it. She played with her pearls nervously.

 

"I told you about Severus," Lily said, blankly. Snape. "He's chosen the other side."

 

"Always hated... Muggles," Petunia mumbled, chin jutting out. "But I wasn't talking about- there was a fourth one."

 

Peter.

 

"He's dead."

 

Petunia's eyes went wide. Lily swallowed bile.

 

"Dead...?"

 

"He became a spy for the Death Eaters. Sirius killed him in a duel," Lily managed, thinking back to the trial. How well that had gone.

 

"And you- has this happened..."

 

"A few days ago."

 

Petunia's pearl-twisting increased in intensity; she looked suddenly blatantly uncomfortable. Lily fought the urge to kick the corner of the table, or at least make the paintings hanging on the wall just a little crooked.

 

"Lils?"

 

"We'll be going now," Lily said, out loud, at the sound of Remus' voice. She paused, throat working, tried to say things she couldn't. "Thank you for- saving our lives."

 

Petunia said nothing. Lily walked by her, felt the strong urge to shake her until Tuney returned, and bit her lip. It was when they were by the door, Remus already outside, that her sister finally revived.

 

"Lily!"

 

Lily’s hand stilled on the doorframe.

 

"Yes?"

 

Petunia's face contorted.

 

"This is a real war, then?"

 

"Feels pretty real."

 

"You...."

 

She stopped, fingers running through her pearls aimlessly. For a moment they just stood, face to face, scrutinizing each other, while Lily waited.

 

"You'd best not... Try not to get yourself killed."

 

It was laughably vain compared to their situation, almost absurdly meaningless, but it was more than Lily'd expected, and her mouth twisted.

 

"I will."

 

Remus was waiting outside for her to close the door, walk past the perfectly neat bushes and perfectly trimmed flowers, to take him by the arm and pause. Which she did, of course, keeping her head forwards and refusing to look backwards to where Tuney was surely looking through the window.

 

"Quite the family reunion we're having today," Remus mumbled, sarcastically, his eyes moving along Privet Drive. "Somehow I feel like the in-laws aren't fans."

 

Lily cracked a grin, unwillingly.

 

"Whatever gave you that idea, Moony?"

 

"Well, the one tried to murder me, and the other would have had I bled on her carpet, so all in all I'm feeling rather unloved."

 

"You're so dramatic, Remus. Petunia would never murder anyone. She wouldn't have access to hair crimpers in prison."

 

"Ah, yes. My apologies."

 

They smiled at each other, both a little pale, both a little shaken, both aware of their ongoing luck: they were still okay, they were still going strong. Today was not the day they were beaten.

 

"Home?"

 

"Home."

 

She pinned his arm to her side, smiled at the disgruntled look that brought, and held her wand firmly.

 

"Let's."

 

With that, they were gone.

 

Godric's Hollow was still bright white when they came back, but it had stopped snowing- instead, the whole village seemed weighed down by a sleepy silence, only broken by the sound of children running through the streets and smoke billowing from the chimneys.

 

Lily and Remus swayed once upon impact, held it out, looked around. Her hair was windswept from the Apparating; she pushed it back with vague thoughts of a haircut. It was growing to her shoulders again, and Lily'd only ever had her hair long for her and James' wedding.

 

"All clear," Remus said, which was a sort of pointless statement given that he wouldn't have said anything if they hadn't been clear. "And no one spotted us."

 

"That's why I landed by the graveyard," Lily pointed out, then pulled a face when Remus snorted. "Or tried to, at least."

 

"Yes, I think I can spot it if I squint," Remus answered, looking around exaggeratedly. "Over there? Oh, no, that's the church."

 

"Twat," Lily laughed, and jostled him a little when they let go of each other's arms. "Come on."

 

They were intercepted by Bathilda Bagshot on their way. The woman was old but still sharp, although her interest lay solely and extensively in History. James and Lily had had her over for tea more times than she could count, and after she left James always laughed and said something like "Lily, I love the woman, but let's never let her meet Sirius."

 

"Mrs Potter! Mr Lupin... Oh, I am so very relieved to see you both in good shape," Bathilda sighed, fretfully. "Your husband returned a while ago, and he looked in an awful state of disarray-"

 

"Alone?" Remus interrupted, sharply. Lily swallowed, having followed the same train of thought, her mind jumping to the worst conclusions. If Sirius...

 

"No, no, with a dark haired young man, but they left in a hurry, and as I couldn't catch his face-"

 

Remus' entire body seemed to exhale in relief, and Lily reeled a bit, pulse skidding. Today had been meant to be a dreary affair, not a rollercoaster ride.

 

"Did they look all right?"

 

"Well, as I said, dear, I couldn't see much, but your husband seemed in a bit of a tizzy-"

 

"Thank you," Lily interrupted, maybe a bit hurriedly, flashing her a wide smile to compensate. "Really. Come over for tea tomorrow, won't you? We'd be so glad to have you."

 

"Oh- all right," Bathilda blinked, a bit taken aback. "That would be lovely, yes."

 

"Good day, Mrs Bagshot!" Lily called, before she could add anything, dragging Remus away with her. He seemed caught between worry and laughter.

 

The cat was sitting by the fence waiting for them, its squashed orange face caught in a permanent scowl as it spotted them.

 

"Hello there," Lily said, pausing to scratch it behind the ears as it gave Remus side-eye. "You been keeping guard for us, I imagine?"

 

The cat meowed affirmatively.

 

"That cat is part Kneazle, Lily, I'm telling you," Remus said, with a shake of the head. "No normal cat is that intelligent."

 

"Nonsense," Lily replied, tossing her hair and giving the animal a considering look. "He's just a very smart cat."

 

"One day, when I teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, I'll use it as a model Kneazle hybrid, and you'll be forced to concede I was right all along."

 

"He'll be dead by that time, Remus."

 

"No, he won't be, because he's part Kneazle."

 

"Remus, leave my cat alone."

 

She pushed the door open carefully, grip around her wand tightening instinctively at the memories of the other night, when Sirius had burst inside dripping blood and guilt onto their carpet. If Sirius died now, Peter would have killed him, she thought, throat dry.

 

"James?"

 

"Dearest?" Sirius's voice called, mockingly, from the couch. She felt more than saw Remus's eyes drop shut briefly, tension leaving him, and sent her own quick prayer of thanks to the skies above. Thank God, thank Merlin, he was fine, they were both fine, they were all fine.

 

"Sirius Black, what have you done with my real husband?" Lily demanded out loud, kicking off her soaked boots and striding into the living-room.

 

"I should ask you the same," Sirius retorted, from where he lay on the couch, pale and recently bandaged. His features were strained with mild pain, but he seemed in a good mood- his eyes had lightened a degree at seeing her and Remus walk through the door. "He's gotten it into his head that he can cook, somehow."

 

"Better than I can," Lily admitted, beaming at him. "What's he making?"

 

"No idea," Sirius drawled, stretching. "He vanished into the kitchen a while ago and keeps emerging to disturb my boredom."

 

"How dreadfully thoughtful," Remus said, dryly. "Let's hope he refrains from doing so when we're around."

 

On cue, the kitchen door slammed open, and James emerged, his body relaxing immediately when he saw the three of them.

 

"Hello, husband," Lily smiled, and met him half-way when he stooped down to kiss her, hands gripping her shoulders tightly.

 

"Don't you dare send me off without you again," James warned. "I know why, but don’t do it again."

 

Lily nodded, knowing fully she would, but it wasn't about that.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“You better be,” James sighed, eyes closing briefly. “You were gone so long…”

 

She traced his face apologetically, heart squeezing in sympathetic worry. Had the roles been reversed, she would have not have accepted the situation so gracefully, but James had always been surprisingly good at forgiving.

 

“Don’t mind us,” Sirius called, from the couch, making them smile exasperatedly. “No, really. Remus and I will just die slowly of second-hand married affection.”

 

Lily flipped him off, shaking her head, and turned back to James.

 

"Did you get back easily?"

 

James nodded, hair falling into his eyes as he did so.

 

"I got us just outside the area, near Channing's, and then we used the Floo Network over to Crescent. We took the bus from there. I didn't want to stray out of the Muggle world too much."

 

"We could have spared hours if someone had let us Apparate," Sirius said, with an eyeroll, "But apparently my sensibilities couldn't have taken the blow."

 

"Shut it, Padfoot," James replied, waving his spoon threateningly in his direction. "We didn't Apparate over in the morning because you were too injured, and you think we'd let you do it after getting into a huge Death Eater brawl?"

 

"You make it sound like it was my fault they were there," Sirius groaned, missing the rapid exchange of looks between the three others had he did so. "Attractive though I may be, it's not in a Death Eater magnet sort of way."

 

"Sure feels like it," James muttered, pulling a face that Sirius returned. "It's those classic Black good looks."

 

"Flatterer," Sirius sneered, as Lily snorted.  

 

"Back on topic," James said, shaking his head. "How did you two get out?"

 

"And why the hell did you take so long?" Sirius translated, raising a brow at Remus.

 

"We... There was a bit of an issue with one of the Death Eaters," Lily said, giving James a meaningful side-look and hoping Sirius' keen eyes hadn't caught it. He mouthed _Regulus_ questioningly; she nodded imperceptibly.

 

"Like you got attacked?" Sirius asked, critically. "How bad?"

 

"No, he was just," Remus started, "Young. Very."

 

"I noticed," Sirius said, blankly. "They're starting to snatch them from their cradles, apparently."

 

"Doesn't make it easy," Remus said, slowly. "It was the one who went after you. When I got to him, he..."

 

"War doesn't make us into them," Lily agreed. "We don't kill children."

 

Sirius laughed humorlessly.

 

"Those kinds of children aren't children."

 

James gave him a look, and they silently seemed to talk for a moment, before Sirius shrugged dismissively.

 

"Besides, we're barely older ourselves. Wouldn't stop them."

 

"No," James agreed, thoughtfully. "But that's not an excuse."

 

"Where did you go to?" Sirius asked, suddenly, not to change the subject but like the thought had hit him. "You went somewhere far, you must've."

 

Remus nodded affirmatively.

 

"I got incapacitated by junior, so Lily got caught by another Death Eater when she tried to get us out."

 

"That wasn't your fault," Lily said, shaking her head. "What were you supposed to do about it?"

 

Remus raised a shoulder.

 

"Enough with the guilting," Sirius grunted, eyes dark. "We have enough of that."

 

Silence fell, harshly, suffocatingly. Sirius' eyes had gone out of focus, mind moving on, and James' own had moved to Sirius's face. Lily's heart felt cold- a shiver went down her back, painfully.

 

Peter seemed to hover in the air.

 

"We went to Petunia's," Lily said, thickly, fighting against the ghost. She wouldn't let him win this, not now, wouldn't let him break them from the inside when he'd been willing to let them all die. Her words were insufficient, insignificant, but they pushed away the spectre, out of her home, out of their faces.

 

"The Death Eater had started to see this area, and I had to pretend like it had been a random coincidence, so when I shook him off in London I couldn't think of a safe place that didn't include Order quarters."

 

"You went to Petunia’s?" James asked, tightly. Concern had woven itself into his expression, knitting his brows together. "You all right?"

 

All right wasn't the word she would've used to describe her stance on the last few days. All wrong, yes, deeply and unsettlingly wrong: Peter, the burning hurting presence that haunted their living room, Regulus and his young face, just like Sirius', Petunia with her pearls and house and everything but a sister. She'd been at Hogwarts an eternity ago, looking forward to the future, to better days- she'd been, even in the war, sure of them all, of their unity, of the fact that good would win, eventually, certainly.

 

She'd been shaken; her hope had turned fragile.

 

"Yes," Lily said, out loud. "She let us- I patched Remus up. We didn't stay long."

 

James moved closer, pulled her to him; she went easily, leaning her head against his shoulder.

 

"She..." Lily hesitated, the privacy of it tugging at her, but the three boys watching her carefully shared her love more than anyone in the world, and sharing her secrets was only a fair trade. "When I was leaving, she called me back, she... She asked me not to get myself killed."

 

For a moment the trio were quiet, mulling it over, and a sudden fear gripped her that they'd not understand the importance of it.

 

"Ah, come here, Evans," Sirius sighed, and of course Sirius knew, of course he did, Sirius had Regulus and Sirius understood more than anyone. James' arm slipped off her, and she smiled half begrudgingly as she knelt by the sofa, reaching out.

 

He paled a little as he pushed himself up, and glared when she made a move to help.

 

"Congratulations, your sister has some vague inkling of humanity left in her shriveled soul," Sirius mumbled, hugging her gently. Lily sighed, gratefully, careful lest she hug too hard in return, smiling at the comment.

 

"Don't fall over yourself with excitement or anything."

 

When she released him and got to her feet, James and Remus were both smiling, either at the two of them or at the news. Lily smiled back regardless, and briefly the world under her feet seemed solid. This was a safe place- here, even Peter’s corpse couldn’t break their home.

 

“Oh, shite, the food,” James went, suddenly, and rushed out of the room. When Remus began to laugh, a tad hoarsely, Lily felt herself follow suit. No ghost would come in tonight.

 

\--

 

After supper, none of them seemed particularly keen on heading upstairs to bed, which didn’t surprise Lily. Exhausted though she was, the thought of sleep only conjured notions of nightmares and panic attacks, of misplaced fears that someone would find them somehow.

 

They were still reeling from the series of events that had taken place; for the moment, caught in the adrenaline, they were functioning, but she had an inkling the enormity of it all would catch up to them eventually, post-traumatic stress disorder at the very least. They were too young for this sort of war, she thought, looking at the dark circles under the boys’ eyes and her own vaguely trembling hands. Too young for any sort of war, truthfully.

 

Conversation was slow; they were all lost in reflection, only communicating aloud as a barrier to intrusive thoughts. At some point, they’d moved from their chairs to the floor; Lily and Remus with their backs to the couch, legs tangled under the blanket, and Sirius and James by the coffee table, shoulder to shoulder as they gazed off into nothingness.

 

Lily’d just about poured herself some more tea when a Patronus came shimmering into sight, startling them all into alertness.

 

A phoenix, of course: Dumbledore.

 

“If possible, would like to communicate by fireplace. Would you allow the intrusion?”

 

Lily glanced back. Remus toyed with his teacup, James considered the bird with a frown, and Sirius was watching her. With a resigned frown, she waved her hand, nodding at the silvery apparition, which bowed its head and vanished.

 

It took only a few moments for Albus Dumbledore’s likeness to appear in their fireplace, eyes sharp even through the fire. Lily stooped down, meeting his glance.

 

“Good night, Miss Evans.”

 

“Professor.”

 

“I wanted to assure myself you’d all gotten home safely after today’s altercations,” the old man said, contemplating her. “In the confusion, I’m afraid I couldn’t quite be sure.”

 

Lily nodded.

 

“Sirius and James left before us, but Remus and I also got out fine.”

 

“Good,” Dumbledore said, gravely. He cast a look back, to where Sirius was mutinously watching him, and sighed. “Mr. Black.”

 

“Professor.”

 

“I do not begrudge you your silence, Sirius. You took your own choice, and it has saved us all from a great catastrophe. However,” and here the wizard’s eyes flashed, powerfully, “Should you ever find yourself keeping secrets from the Order again, I urge you to reconsider.”

 

“Professor,” Sirius nodded, his own expression as steely as Dumbledore’s.

 

The Order of the Phoenix’s leading figure stayed quiet, watching him, and for a moment there was silence as Lily rubbed her arm tersely. Then a serene smile appeared on Dumbledore’s face, and he seemed back to his old self.

 

“Well, I am very happy to hear you are all safely returned. I do wish to apologize deeply for today’s events- I assure you, if we had been able to spare you from any of it, I would have taken any steps necessary. The past few days’ events has highlighted an alarming tendency of the Death Eaters knowing our location- we’re calling off meetings for a few weeks as Minerva and I discuss the problem at hand.”

 

The group all smiled at the mention of their favourite teacher, easing the mood slightly. Dumbledore nodded, caught in thought apparently, and remained quiet for quite some time.

 

“Professor?” Lily asked, carefully. He blinked.

 

“Ah! Miss Evans. My apologies. I confess I quite forgot I was still here. It happens once so often.”

 

“Did you have anything else to tell us, Professor?” James asked, finally speaking up.

 

“No, I don’t think so, Mr. Potter,” Dumbledore mused, eyeing him. “I believe you may have something to tell me, unless I’m mistaken.”

 

James inclined his head.

 

“I think today’s attack was a trial for young Death Eater recruits. The senior Death Eaters were mainly absent, and we noticed quite a number of very junior members amongst the attacking crowd.”

 

Dumbledore’s brows had lowered, but he nodded sadly.

 

“Indeed, Mr. Potter. I made the same observance. There are a number of young students I myself recognized as mere graduates from Hogwarts…”

 

Lily prayed to the high gods he didn’t look at Sirius, but Dumbledore’s usual insight seemed to be at play, because he didn’t betray a single thought as he trailed off.

 

“Yes, the Death Eaters seem to be expanding their ranks to new recruits; young ones and foreign ones. We’ve had a number of troubles in the East, lately.”

 

“How much does the Order know about their workings, Professor?” Remus inquired, speaking up for the first time.

 

“Not as much as they know of ours, you mean?” Dumbledore asked, wryly. “It is a difficult position we find ourselves in these days, Mr. Lupin, but I can tell you this- we know a great deal more than anyone believes we do. Which does not, perhaps, sound like the reassurance you wish for.”

 

Remus looked askance, and Dumbledore smiled wearily.  


“You are all remarkably brave and smart young people, my dear Gryffindors, and you have had the misfortune of being born in a time where brave and smart young people like yourselves have no choice but to fight the greatest evil our world has ever known. I cannot myself offer you promises, but only this: it is important to fight and fight again, and keep fighting, for only then can evil be kept at bay, though never quite eradicated. I myself have spent my life watching evil rise and fall, and of that I have taken one lesson; that good never gives up- which is, precisely, where evil fails.”

 

His words hung in the air like a solemn oath, or a prophecy, and Lily met his eyes sharply, green against blue.

 

“We all eventually must choose between what is right and what is easy,” Dumbledore said, thoughtfully. He surveyed them- “The four of you, now, I’ve never known to back down from any challenge. Which is more than what can be said for myself.”

 

“Professor,” Lily began, then halted.

 

“Yes, Miss Evans?”

 

“Peter- did you know?”

 

Silence. The fireplace crackled. Lily watched him closely, searching.

 

“Whatever response I give, I am afraid, shall come as a disappointment,” Dumbledore said, finally. “But, to my regret, Miss Evans, I did not.”

 

She swallowed, dryly.

 

“I am most sorry for what happened,” the great man said, head bowed. “Mr Pettigrew, I believe, was not a bad man, but a weak one. In other times, perhaps…”

 

“Thank you, Professor,” James said, with as much reverence as quiet dismissal.

Dumbledore smiled.

 

“I wish you all a good night. The Order will get in touch.”

 

“Good night, Professor,” Lily echoed, and waved her hand once more. Dumbledore’s face vanished slowly, and then it was just the fire, burning low in the hearth.

 

“Pretentious old geezer,” Sirius grunted, breaking the atmosphere completely and making James give a loud, startled “HA!” before dissolving into shocked laughter.

 

“Come off it, Siri,” Remus began, but the nervous hysteria had gotten to him too, because he promptly also began to laugh, stifling it behind his hand.

 

“Guys,” Lily sighed. “Really?”

 

James responded by laughing further, toes curling with it as he hid his face. Remus, by her side, shook helplessly, trying to regain composure but losing it when he looked at Sirius. Lily stared the culprit down, not actually remotely angry but trying to at least convey that she wasn’t impressed. Sirius, unsurprisingly, looked not the slightest bit apologetic; his expression conveyed both the fact he’d not expected this reaction and the smugness that he had.

 

“Dumbledore’s a war leader, Sirius, he has a difficult job.”

 

Sirius shrugged, like, try me. Lily crossed her arms.

 

“I don’t like people who lie all the time, Lils.”

 

“If he told the truth all the time, a lot of people would be dead by now.”

 

“And maybe if he lied a bit less, a lot of people would be alive right now,” Sirius argued. “You can’t know that.”

 

“Maybe,” Lily said, surrendering. She couldn’t bear a fight, not now. She didn’t even disagree with him, not on the lying front, but her vision was a lot more nuanced than Sirius’ black and white. Though she wasn’t fond of Dumbledore’s ways recently, she understood them, or at least she felt like she did. She had no pretensions to knowing how his mind worked, but she knew that few people grasped the magnitude of the war as much as Dumbledore did.

 

A world war… As a child, she’d only known of trenches and guns and Nazis where war was concerned, had believed like most Muggle children that war was a big bad thing of the past. This war had crept up on her teenaged years, only seemed to explode when she took her first steps into adulthood. What a strange thing it was to fight an invisible war…

 

Remus patted her arm, pulling her out of her thoughts. He’d stopped laughing, as had James, though a smile still ghosted the latter’s lips as he and Sirius nudged each other.

 

“All right, Evans?” Remus asked, a teasing recreation of a phrase from long ago. Lily’s lips curved upwards nostalgically, meeting James’ mildly embarrassed expression midway.

 

“Yeah, yeah.”

 

“Now seems as good a time to ruin the mood again,” Sirius said, with a nuanced tone, almost wistfully. “But I’d like to know what you three saw at the trial that I shouldn’t know about.”

 

Nothing they could’ve done would have appeared innocent, but their exchanged looks were as incriminating as it got. Sirius pressed into James’ side firmly, examining them in turn.

 

“Sirius…” Remus sighed.

 

“No lying.”

 

“We wouldn’t,” James said, immediately, decisively. Lily watched him resignedly, well aware that if James had decided something was best for Sirius, there was little to be done about it other than watch.

 

“So spit it out,” Sirius answered, eyes falling. “Can’t be worse than everything else.”

 

“It’s bad,” Remus stressed, apologetically. Sirius considered him, nodded in thanks.

 

“Okay. Tell me, though.”

 

“Padfoot,” James started, paused. “Can this wait until tomorrow?”

 

“What?”

 

“Just- today’s been a lot. Can this wait until tomorrow?”

 

Sirius searched his face, and Lily and Remus waited, watching in unison.

 

“You swear you won’t try and hide it.”

 

“I swear,” James nodded, as an afterthought. “It’s not to lie to you, Siri, honest.”

 

“I know,” Sirius replied, brows furrowed. “Tomorrow.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

Sirius made a small affirmative noise, eyes slipping past James to the couch now, where Peter had lain two nights ago. When he looked up, catching everyone watching him, a crooked smile appeared on his face.

 

“I don’t have cancer. You can stop treating me like I’m on the verge of death.”

 

Remus snorted, guiltily.

 

“Just,” Sirius began, paused. “Please. Don’t treat me differently. I can’t cope with that.”

 

Which was a fair demand, Lily supposed, too tired to reach over and rub his shoulder. Instead, she let her silence play the role of her voice, as James knocked their knees together.

 

“No more special treatment. Okay.”

 

“I can’t believe I’ve lived to hear James Potter tell Sirius Black “no special treatment”,” Remus said, out loud, and the phrase was so jarringly and ridiculously true, Lily had the strong and sudden notion of being back in the common room, three years back. Home is where the heart lies, indeed.

 

She thought of Petunia's empty-hearted house, of Regulus Black's dark young eyes, and squeezed Remus' arm. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was not where this chapter started off as, but it led me to here, and from here I've just uncovered the plot for the next instalment of LMV. I dearly hope people who read this fic will find it updated, somehow, even if it's been eons, because I do very much appreciate the amazing commentators I've had on here. 
> 
> I like writing Lily because she's the most challenging character to get a grip on- I often wander out of her head instead of into her thoughts. The next chapter will probably have a change of scenery but quite a changed time-frame. I have a plot point to reach.


	6. The First Task

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the lull of recovery, new developments in the Order begin to present themselves, as the quatuor catch up on news and contemplate new tasks at hand. James tells Sirius about his brother, and a discussion on the nature of good and evil drifts throughout the day as the week's drama takes its toll on the eldest Black heir. James' mind walks circles around what war means for them all, and an excursion ends up introducing alarming information with regards to crucial missions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been like...four months? This chapter is very long and finally bringing plot to the table- admittedly most of it is sort of a little subtext-y, but you'll catch on. We're moving into the second act of this novella! Thanks to everyone who keeps in touch by tumblr- I do my best to take your ideas and thoughts into account (except you, person who wanted Snape to be a big hero. fuck you.) Sirius is still shaken up, so I'm glad there's a James chapter around to get him going again- what would we do without 'em, after all?

Chapter Five: The First Task

 

 

 ** _“_** ** _It matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be_** ** _.”--_** J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

 

 

\----

 

_“Mate,” James said, frankly, “Fuck your family. Not in the literal sense, cause that’d just be even more inbreeding, but fuck your family. You outgrew them long ago. I know you think you’re inherently bad and all, but from my supremely good point of view, you’re definitely not. It doesn’t matter if you feel like you’re fighting some hidden malice in yourself- the fact you’re fighting it doesn’t make you a coward hiding their true nature away, it makes you braver than most people I know.”_

_Sirius went quiet, and the hands around James’ waist flexed reflexively, listening._

 

\----

 

 

James awoke with the strong feeling of something being amiss.

 

His room was still dimly lit, pale winter light filtering slowly through the curtain, and Lily was fast asleep by his side, her hair spread like a halo over the pillows. He paused to tenderly run a hand through it, smile creeping onto his face at her sleeping form even through the worry tugging at his heart.

 

Kicking off his covers, he took a moment to find his bearings, trying to figure out where his discomfort was coming from. Visual: the room, early morning, Lily asleep, everything where he’d left it. Audio: quiet, distant chatter in the street, nothing alarming. Tactile: his senses firm, his body alert, no impression of wrongness that a curse of some kind would have brought.

 

It was when he turned his mind to sense of smell that it hit him. Cigarette- the light but distinct hum of it, all too familiar, and not nearby. Of course- his body recognized it too well, and questioned the lack of Sirius in the bed next to his, if not in his own.

 

Somewhat appeased, he pushed himself off the bed, grimacing at his bleary-eyed reflection and putting his glasses on. Focus restored, James gave an instinctive and utterly useless fingercomb to his hair, softly pushing the bedroom door open and making his way down the stairs.

 

He didn’t think he’d ever be able to see their entry hall without thinking back to Sirius hanging in it, blood-soaked and wild, to Peter’s rigid corpse on their couch, to finding the body in the sidecar, immediate urge to throw up only matched by immediate agonizing heartbreak.

 

Shaking the thoughts off, he noted the barely open front door and went to it, pushing it open slowly and being completely unsurprised when he found Sirius sitting on the front steps, smoke billowing gently around him as he gazed off into the air. Godric’s had received more snow in the night; everything was blindingly white around them but the rows of footprints in the street and Sirius’ lone figure, hair inky black in contrast. Although he wasn’t quite alone- with a spark of bright inexplicable happiness, he realized the cat was by his side, equally sullen, its ugly pug face content as it gazed up at James.

 

“Hullo, Pads.”

 

“Hullo,” Sirius replied, not looking up. He’d known it was him, of course. “Sleep well?”

 

“Awfully, actually, and yourself?” James replied, honestly, as he closed the door behind him. His sleep, he now remembered, had been fitful and filled with feverish dreams- only exhaustion had kept him down.

 

“Haven’t had much, honestly,” Sirius declared as he sat down, exhaling a cloud of smoke. James hummed a response, pleased to be inhaling the familiar burn of nicotine, just as pleased to hear the hoarseness in Sirius’ voice when he spoke. There was something very rock star about early morning smoke Sirius; it made James’ pulse beat faster with satisfaction.

 

“I hear you, mate.”

 

Sirius looked up, finally, gaze thoughtful and cigarette dangling loosely between his lips.

 

“D’you reckon we’ll be able to pick my bike up?”

 

James considered it, eyes on Sirius’, glad at the suffocatingly familiar comfort of having him physically by his side. He’d missed having him there- far more than he’d allowed himself to dwell upon. They were too codependent for separation.

 

“Hope so. Trial’s done with, innit? There’s only the Death Eater problem.”

 

“Yeah,” Sirius sighed, stretching the syllable out. He looked up at James again, something dancing through his eyes, and finally shifted closer so their knees touched, free hand dropping down next to James’.

 

James twined their hands together without a thought, gripping Sirius’ cold hand tightly. Sirius’ thoughtful mood ebbed slightly, careful smile appearing on his features. It was with a less tense set to his shoulders that he turned to take another drag.

 

“Real shite we’ve been living in.”

 

“You don’t say.”

 

“D’you want a smoke?” Sirius asked, finally, cigarette only a mild deterrent to his pronunciation. James considered it. He was no smoker, having never felt the pull to it that Sirius or Remus did, but he indulged in it much as he indulged in all things Sirius.

“Yeah, all right. Be a love, Siri, light us one.”

 

Sirius nodded, tongue slipping out in concentration as he flicked sparks off his fingers and lit a second cigarette.

 

“Ta,” James said, more playing with the cigarette than anything. Still, it was cold, and he took a drag, glad to have the heat.

 

“If we don’t have my bike, can we at least go flying this afternoon?” Sirius asked, after a minute of silence. “I’m going to go insane if I can’t get up there sometime soon.”

 

There were a number of things James could’ve said, like “You’re still very injured” or “We were out yesterday” or “Remember the Death Eaters roaming the area”, but he knew for a fact Sirius had already considered these things and dismissed them. Instead, he searched for an acceptable answer that involved saying yes, because saying no to Sirius’ requests wasn’t something he dabbled with much.

 

“If we go together when it’s getting dark, yeah. And you sit behind me.”

 

“Bit old for sharing a broom,” Sirius snorted, but he looked relieved. James took his glasses off, folding them into his lap with his free hand. No use having them fogged up, and he was too lazy to put a spell on them just for this.

 

“Your cat’s an ugly bugger, isn’t he?” Sirius asked, gazing down at the creature, who gave him an equally unimpressed stare.

 

“Yeah, he is,” James chuckled, giving the thing a fond look. “No idea where he came from. Just showed up at some point, we figured we’d keep him around.”

 

“D’you know Remus reckons he’s part Kneazle?”

 

“Yeah,” James laughed, coughing slightly on the smoke. “He may be right. Lily refuses to listen to him.”

 

“Smart cat,” Sirius said, eyeing it. “Don’t usually like cats much.”

 

“Unless they’re McGonagall.”

 

“I have my exceptions to the rule,” Sirius agreed, grinning slightly. “Does the cat not have a name?”

 

“Nah, he’s just the cat,” James said, shrugging. “Doesn’t need more of a name, you know?”

 

“Aw, Prongs, you can’t be letting your pets go without a nickname,” Sirius smirked, rolling his cigarette around in his mouth. “They’ll feel left out.”

 

“You already have a nickname, Padfoot.”

 

Sirius snorted, shoving at him with his shoulder, and James grinned, shoving back. He was pretty sure they both winced on impact at their injuries being jostled, but who cared about physical injuries in moments where everything was briefly okay?

 

“James,” Sirius said, simply, once their smiles had faded, and his eyes met James’. James sighed, took a last drag of his cigarette and put it out against Sirius’ boot.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“What happened yesterday,” Sirius began, and trailed off mid-sentence. James made ready to face him, but Sirius held a hand up.

 

“No, hang on, I wasn’t done. What happened yesterday-” Sirius paused, eyes moving from the sky to the cat to their feet. “You don’t have to tell me.”

 

James froze.

 

“What?”

 

A pause, Sirius gathering his thoughts.

 

“James, I trust you. If you genuinely believe it’s better for me not to know, I… I trust you on this, all right?”

 

Taken aback, James did nothing but stare for a few moments, chest constricted. Sirius was facing him seriously, tone matter of fact- he’d left it up to James. Up to James, then, if he was to be spared the terrible blow of Regulus Black’s conversion to the dark side of the war, if he was to be protected just this one time, kept safe. Up to James…

 

His throat was dry. Making terrible choices every day had become a necessary evil, but they were all the more painful when they were this monumentally important, not to society or to freedom but to something much closer to home, to his heart. It wasn’t really very much fair of Sirius, putting him in this position, but it was just, in Sirius’ own way, and far too generous a deal.

 

James inhaled, sudden release of smoke on Sirius’ part bringing tears to his eyes, and steeled himself.

 

“There’s nothing I’d like more than to do that, Padfoot, but you… It’d come out sooner or later, and you deserve no more lies. Yeah?”

 

Sirius’ eyes flashed like lightning, and James’ pulse tapped once too fast. Had there been another option, even? He thought not.

 

“All right. Hit me with your best shot.”

 

“When we were running about yesterday…” James paused, ignored his aching chest. “Regulus was there, Sirius. Regulus was one of the recruits.”

 

He almost managed to convince himself to look away, spare himself the damage, but it would have been impossible. Instead his eyes were on Sirius’ when the news hit, and the wave of feelings it provoked slammed into him with every bit the force it would’ve had it been physically present. James almost felt the air knocked out of him, and Sirius’ handsome features contorted in pain.

 

He didn’t make a move, at first, watched as Sirius’ emotions danced vividly through his face, abject suffering and sharp fear, suffocating guilt and terrible anger. Not a moment of relief, just a hurricane whirling his disarray into the air- James noticed belatedly that wind had in fact began howling around them, unnaturally. He looked up, back down- no, it was Sirius who was making their hair whip around their faces, robes waving around and the cat meowling unhappily as a small storm shook their front steps.

 

“Padfoot,” James said, lowly, and squeezed his hand more tightly.

 

Sirius snapped his eyes shut, and the wind howled some more as his jaw worked. James watched him swallow it down difficultly, wanting to reach out and trace his throat with a reassuring finger.

 

“You’re sure?” Sirius managed, once, quiet under the wind.

 

“Yes.”

 

“FUCK!” Sirius shouted, abruptly, and the wind swelled and died on impact, Sirius’ hand tensing painfully in his. The cat hissed, but did not move. James watched Sirius.

 

“Fuck,” Sirius said again, resigned. “Fuck, James.”

 

“Yeah,” James said, and allowed himself to grab Sirius’ cigarette and hold it in his mouth, maneuvering them until he could wrap his arms around him instead. “I’m so fucking sorry, mate.”

 

Sirius’ breathing was ragged, but he wasn’t crying. It was more than that.

 

James looked up at the white winter skies and shook his head, minutely.

 

_Give him a break, for Godric’s sake._

“Prongs,” Sirius said, muffled, wavering but getting there. “Stop fucking bargaining with God.”

 

James laughed, relieved, and laughed some more, and let Sirius free but kept a hold on him anyway, just in case he wanted to go. Sirius hadn’t cracked, hadn’t lost it, Sirius wasn’t losing one last battle, Sirius was going to pull through. James could’ve wept with relief.

 

“Merlin, if you cry I swear I’ll hit you.”

 

“Wasn’t going to cry, twat,” James snorted, although he had been on the way there. Then he kept silent, not pushing his luck further- this was another Peter, another brother lost.

 

“James,” Sirius started, then faltered. James had read him loud and clear.

 

“I’m never going anywhere, mate. I’m here. Forever. I don’t care what happens in this life or the next, I’m here. If we go down, we go down together. I’m never leaving you.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Sirius said, voice cracking on the second word. He closed his eyes again, inhaled shakily- James passed him his cigarette back, and Sirius took a drag, cheeks hollowing with it. Once he’d breathed out, he tried again.

 

“Okay.”

 

On a whim, James grabbed him by the chin and kissed him on the forehead, soundly, wishing he could do more. A kiss to the forehead wasn’t much of a reassurance, when words failed, but he’d needed to do something.

 

Sirius blinked, eyes open once more, and for a moment seemed absurdly taken aback, given the circumstances. Then something hard around the edge of his eyes softened, and he broke the spell to rub the cat’s head. James could breathe again.

 

“Siri- if you think there’s any chance of saving Regulus, of getting him back- we’ll get him. I’ll go with you.”

 

“You having me on?” Sirius asked, eventually, but he hadn’t looked up, and his voice stayed low.

 

“You know I’m not.”

 

Sirius exhaled slowly, smoke carefully billowing around his face, and looked up.

 

“I do.”

 

 _Well_? James almost said, but there were voices inside and they paused in mutual agreement. _We’ll talk about it later_.

 

“C’mon, you poor bastard,” Sirius grunted, getting up and motioning for the cat to follow. “Let’s get inside.”

 

“Auch, shite,” James winced, cracking his back. “My arse is fucking frozen.”

 

“You don’t have a fucking arse,” Sirius retorted, smacking him on the shoulder as they brushed snow off their feet. “Don’t talk rubbish.”

 

“D’your mother raise you like this?” James shot back, and didn’t worry that it would fall flat, because Sirius smirked back at him as he did so.

 

“She raised me _much_ worse, believe me. I’ve only been tamed recently.”

 

“S that so?” James grinned, and almost forgot they were out of Hogwarts for a second, until Lily’s voice called him back down to earth.

 

“Sirius Black, tell me I’m not hearing you and my husband flirting in subzero weather outside!”

 

“You’re not hearing your husband and I flirting in subzero weather outside,” Sirius parroted, pushing the door open and smiling when he met her eyes. “Hullo, Evans.”

 

Lily smiled, scooping up the cat and closing the door behind them.

 

“We’ve got breakfast, thanks to my past ingenuity. Who wants waffles?”

 

“You’ve married an angel,” Sirius said, respectfully, as Lily laughed.

 

“That I have,” James agreed, kissing the side of her head. “Did I wake you?”

 

“No, Remus did,” Lily said, pointing to the culprit where he nursed a cup of coffee in the kitchen. “Almost fell down the stairs.”

 

“Ah, Moony,” James smirked, sitting down next to the werewolf. “Always the morning person.”

 

“Go fuck yourself on a rusty spoon,” Remus grumbled, eyes shut and coffee clasped tightly between his hands.

 

“Cut him some slack,” Lily snorted, as James and Sirius snickered. “You did wake us all up at an ungodly hour. I suppose I have you to thank for that, Padfoot.”

 

“ _A votre service_ ,” Sirius agreed, with a mock bow.

 

Breakfast was quiet, all four rapidly lost in thought, and James took the opportunity to assess the states of each of the other three. He’d not had them all three gathered around him like this since- well, since a while ago, really. Not this open, anyway. His eyes slowly went from one face to the other, starting by the werewolf by his side.

 

Remus gave him a wistful half-smile, catching him at it, his eyes lightly lined by wrinkles already. He looked complacent but weary; James took it upon himself to have a serious talk with him sometime when Peter’s death wasn’t sitting so heavily on them all. Sirius, beside him, was absent-mindedly gnawing at a piece of string he’d tied around his wrist, his mouth loose and his eyes unfocused. He would’ve looked relaxed had it not been for how raw his lips were.

 

James startled lightly as something touched his hand, and turned slightly to find Lily’s hand there. She was looking at him with mysterious sentiment in her expression, and James found himself smiling strangely at her nonetheless, feeling as though she’d understand whatever he meant to say even if he didn’t.

 

James never spent a moment with Lily without thinking how bloody lucky he was to have her in his life; not when she was spewing insults at him or when they were yelling at each other at the top of their lungs. Now, here, when their house felt like the last safe place on earth, and James’ resilience wavered, he couldn’t have been more grateful that she was with him, with her green eyes alert and her smile dimpling cautiously at his stare. James had many regrets for so young a life, but the years of desperately chasing after Lily Evans were something he couldn’t regret if he tried.

 

“What’s gotten into you, Potter?” Lily murmured, amused, swiping a thumb across his knuckles. James grinned unabashedly, tilting his head to the side and feeling his heart swell even through the heaviness resting upon it.

 

“You know I love you, right?”

 

“I’d gotten the memo, somewhere along the line,” Lily answered, but her smile was warm. James ducked his head, laughing. _Merlin_ , but he loved his wife.

 

 _His wife._ He smiled harder.

Sirius and Remus hadn’t interrupted, thankfully, probably because they felt Lily and James deserved their sappy moments in the midst of everything. Still, some things in life couldn’t be done in front of your best mates, no matter if said best mates were Remus Lupin and Sirius Black- _especially_ if said best mates were Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, actually.

 

“No, Prongs, I’m sorry, this is personally offensive to me,” Sirius drawled, and James laughed and didn’t look at him. “ _You know I love you_? Remus.”

 

The last word was an indignant cry for support, and James could visualize Remus shaking his head slowly as Sirius eyed him expectantly.

 

“He’s right, Prongs. The only people who could possibly know you love Lily more than Lily herself are sitting right on the other side of this fucking table.”

 

Lily laughed, tossing her hair back, and James finally pulled his eyes away from her to look at the other two- Remus mock disapproving, Sirius snorting at Remus’ expression.

 

“What kind of language is that? Coming from a _prefect_ …”

 

“Up _yours_ ,” Remus exclaimed, over cries of protest from both Lily and Sirius pointing out James’ own less than upstanding behavior as Head Boy of the establishment. “You literally misused the Prefect’s Bathroom to the point of it being _banned from use_ for a month. I still don’t know what happened there and I don’t even _want_ to.”

 

“I do,” Lily cried, pulling her hand off James’ to point accusingly at him. “Dumbledore thought _I_ ’d been in on it, and I didn’t know to be more upset about being falsely accused because of moral integrity or because I wanted in on it!”

 

“No, Merlin’s sake,” James laughed, covering his face. “No, that is one thing- no, we’re not going back to this, Padfoot, don’t you say a word.”

 

Sirius was snickering silently from across the table, and James kicked him in the shins, regretting it when Sirius kicked back and they ended up nearly knocking the table over.

 

“What?” Lily asked, impatiently, half laughing and half throwing things at Sirius, who batted them away feebly. “Sirius Orion Black, you will tell me the _truth_..”

 

“No,” Sirius laughed, meeting James’ eye and cringing away. “Godric, no. Not this one.”

 

“Ah, hell,” James huffed, looking at the ceiling helplessly. “Why did we do that?”

 

“Shut up,” Sirius warned, “Don’t even start. Lily will…”

 

James buried his head in his arms. He and Sirius had done a plethora of insane and illegal things across the years, but some really bore no remembering. Such as the bathroom incident. He was sure a good deal of the student body would have murdered for a chance at having a naked Sirius Black covered in multicoloured foam in a bathtub with them, but they probably weren’t taking into account the whole Moaning Myrtle thing, or the Giant Squid, and-

 

Sirius let out a loud, slightly desperate barking laugh, and James was pretty sure they’d just remembered the same part of said misadventure.

 

“Do you-?” Sirius asked, as Remus groaned.

 

“Can you two either spit it out or stop it?”

 

“The first one,” Lily griped, shaking James’ shoulder. “Spit it out!”

 

James, lost in remembrance, went a strange colour, caught between going white and turning red. It took both him and Sirius some time to stop giving each other half-horrified half-hysterically amused looks, and for the other two to snap and start beating sense into them.

 

It was a very different sort of morning from those he’d had the past few days.

 

\--

 

Much of the day was spent flitting between varying activities, as all four of the remaining Marauders put their minds to the task and tried to be productive. There was no time for reprieve in wars like there- no time to mourn, no time to recover, no time at all. James, in fact, often got lost in the thought of how time had seemed to change once he’d left Hogwarts. Gone were the interminable hours of History of Magic, gone were the endless winter nights, gone too were the lazy summer days. Everything these days seemed to happen so awfully, terribly fast- the deaths most of all.

 

The first person James had known well upon his death had been his old Gryffindor team captain, who’d been murdered mere days after James had joined the Order. He remembered the shock it’d sent through him- not the same as his parent’s death, but somehow devastating in a different way, as he realized nothing could be counted upon. So many of their friends had died or vanished that James often woke up in a cold sweat absolutely convinced he’d let them die, or on worse nights that the rest of them had just died too. It was, undoubtedly, worse on Lily- James had not lost either of his brothers until Sirius had burst through a door mere days ago, but Lily had already lost two sisters.

 

He remembered Marlene’s passing particularly well, the cry Lily had let out when they’d arrived too late at her house, finding the mark hanging in the skies above. Marlene had been beautiful in death, and it had been Sirius who’d carried her out grim-faced. James had thought back to their bantering flirtation all throughout Hogwarts, and had only stopped himself from crying because Lily had already been sobbing. Marlene’s grave was somewhere hidden in the Dark Forest, where she’d wanted it- he could actually recall their conversation, years ago, Marlene’s sparkling dark eyes as she declared it the perfect place to be laid to rest in, one last mystery for future students to work out.

 

James forced the thoughts down, knowing the numb despair that would sink in if he continued down this lane all too well. His friends had died, but they’d _each of them_ died for a cause, and as long as James lived he would defend that cause in their name. Long lost were their teenaged jokes about Death Eaters- long lost too the fearless way they spoke Voldemort’s name. It was cursed, now.

 

They were tired, James thought, but there would be an end. He knew there must be. People like Dumbledore had lived through one Great War and seen evil defeated once; in James’ lifetime it would be again. True that he would perhaps not be alive himself to see it, but if he lived long enough to see it coming, he thought he would die as happy as any man could.

 

His brooding was interrupted by Lily rushing by him to get to the fireplace, beckoning him after her as she went. James crouched by her side confused, hoping for actual news from the Order, and got a mild shock when Alice Longbottom of all people emerged from the flames, shaking her hair out of her eyes and grinning widely when she laid eyes on Lily.

 

“Hullo, you lot.”

 

“I _just_ got your message, darling,” Lily beamed, as James stared in surprise. “To think we’d have missed you!”

 

“Don’t worry, I’d have stayed and shouted until someone heard me,” Alice laughed, round cheeks somehow pink even through the flames. “Oh, I’m awfully glad I went to see Dumbledore today.”

 

“So am I,” Lily agreed, smiling wide. James’ chest loosened in relief. Right. Only Dumbledore’s private office was able to open a fireplace bond with the house, and then only for twenty-four hours each time they passed him the connection.

 

“What news from the Order, then?” James asked, crouching lower by Lily’s side.

 

“All business as always, James,” Alice snorted, as Lily rolled her eyes. “No, no, you’re right, of course. I’m only here to tell keep you up to date- first off, we’ve opened radio channels again. Password for today is Orion.”

 

“They managed to get it up again?” James asked, shaking his head with a grin. “Bloody geniuses.”

 

“I thought after the Ministry imposed that ban, we were done for,” Alice replied, nodding. “But Arthur Weasley managed to find some Muggle workings and whatnot, and with that the crew got it back up.”

 

“What else is news, Alice?”

 

“Well, Terence Prewett has gone missing,” Alice said, mood sobering, “But no one’s been reported dead beyond that. That’s not why I’m here, of course- HQ wanted to inform you we’re back in business, so to speak. No big Order meetings just yet, but your contacts are in-network again, and they’ve found a lead on one of the big bads. Malfoy, specifically.”

 

“Malfoy?” James said, perplexed at the news. “After all this time, we have something?”

 

“So it seems,” Alice nodded, before her eyes grew tired. “After what happened with Peter, we’ve all been reexamining the contacts and info he gave us. Apparently someone got a lead on Malfoy. They’ve found a mansion near Bristol they think he’s been using as a hideout.”

 

“Who’s in on the op?” Lily asked, frowning.

 

“Ah, let’s see- there’s the eldest Shacklebolt brothers, Caradoc Dearborn, Augustus Johnson, and Emmeline Vance.”

 

“Solid team,” James said, approvingly. “I suppose we aren’t allowed in for the moment.”

 

“No, you’re not,” Alice agreed. “After everything, the Order wants to keep you lot on the down low at least for the next week or so. Mind you, they won’t keep you out long; there’ll be a meeting sometime soon and you’ll obviously be coming, so I doubt they can out-argue all four of you nutters.”

 

“We’ll see you then, yeah?” Lily asked, eyes wistful. Alice’s own smile grew softer.

 

“I hope so. Are you two doing okay?”

 

“As okay as we can,” Lily answered, tiredly. James placed a hand on her shoulder.

 

When she’d not returned the previous day, he’d spent the time not fussing over Sirius in a state of numb terror, fighting to convince himself that Lily wouldn’t have gone down in a fight like that. They’d faced off the Dark Lord himself together- surely, surely… When he’d heard Sirius’ voice rise in excited relief, James’ whole body had relaxed. Losing Lily was the unimaginable.

 

“It just- I can’t stop thinking about him,” Alice sighed, frown wrinkles traced where they’d never been. “Peter, I mean. Trying to see where he could’ve been drawn out. I always remember that one time he’d thrown that potion all over himself, and we were all laughing as he jumped about, but it must’ve hurt, and we could’ve helped, and it’s just so- silly…”

 

Her voice cracked on the last word, eyes welling up. James swallowed and looked askance, well aware of how similar her thoughts were to his. Where had they lost Peter?

 

“I know,” Lily said, shoulders sagging. “He’s gone, Alice. In both senses of the word. We can’t change that now.”

 

“I know,” Alice sniffed, shaking her head wryly. “I know. I’m sorry. I wasn’t going to bring it up. Oh, James. I hope you’re doing all right.”

 

James managed a smile, the empathy in her voice digging into his chest as he unclenched his hand.

 

“Sirius is alive. Lily is alive. Remus is alive. I’m alive. It could’ve been worse.”

 

They sat in silence for a moment, disrupted by Remus and Sirius’ voices approaching from outside.

 

“Those’ll be the boys,” Alice smiled. “Listen, Lils, I’ll say hello and then be off, all right? It was so lovely seeing you- I miss you so much, you can’t imagine.”

 

“Oh, Alice. I wish we didn’t have to hide like this.”

 

“So do I,” Alice replied, sighing. “But we’ll see each other soon, won’t we?”

 

Remus and Sirius were in high spirits, both glad to be out of the house even just to walk to the market and back, and their greetings to Alice were enthusiastic. Once she’d vanished, it was up to Lily and James to recount the news, all four quickly finding themselves discussing the Malfoy issue.

 

“Getting to Malfoy would be a minor miracle,” Remus said, frowning at the news. “The man’s wealth practically keeps this half of London’s Death Eaters in practice.”

 

“Not to mention his connexions,” Sirius said, acidly. “Nothing like a pureblood to keep it in the family.”

 

“If this place is actually still in operation, this could be something major,” Lily agreed, considering James. “It’s highly likely we find yet another abandoned hideout.”

 

“Although I doubt the Order would send its most gifted Aurors off on the mission if they didn’t have strong evidence pointing towards Malfoy et co still being around,” Remus pointed out, shaking his head. “I just wonder how they got their hands on the intel.”

 

“Malfoy’s got a huge circle,” James noted. “It’s inevitable that one of them gets a little stupid or a little talkative one day.”

 

“I don’t know, James,” Lily argued, doubtful. “Malfoy’s circle is very good at keeping secrets, that high up in the Death Eaters. And it’s doubtful that we would have any spies that are so high ranked.”

 

“All comes down to Peter, doesn’t it,” Sirius said, wryly. “But I don’t suppose Wormy was of much importance to the Dark Lord and his friends- doubt he’d have been invited to tea.”

 

“You’re right,” James said, uncomfortable at the mention of Peter but tentatively following his reasoning. “If it’s thanks to him, it must’ve either been something he witnessed or someone low-level letting something slip: something more accidental.”

 

“Don’t know that Peter would charm secrets out of someone,” Sirius continued, thoughtful now. “But then I suppose he was rather sneaky.”

 

“No,” Lily interrupted, suddenly, as if remembering something. “Not charismatic, but good at dealing with big bullies. Or have you all forgotten fifth year?”

 

James winced, seeing the truth in it. He’d been aching to avoid the thought that Peter had learnt to handle Death Eaters by handling him and Sirius, but he had little actual conviction that it wasn’t the case.

 

“Brilliant,” Sirius snorted, tone heavy. “Good to know we fueled the Dark Lord’s agenda. Thanks, Evans.”

 

“That’s not what she meant,” Remus sighed, as Lily frowned. “But she’s right. Peter was good at reading people. And he folded very easily to the ways of those stronger than him. I don’t need to bring up how he was at Hogwarts.”

 

“He was our friend, at Hogwarts,” James said, softly. “He wasn’t some kind of evil manipulator- he was a _kid_. He was our friend.”

 

Silence reigned, all three of the others looking as though they disagreed in some way. James sought their glance out one by one- Remus’ eyes were weary and disbelieving, Lily’s glance complicated and trying to avoid looking accusatory, and Sirius met his eyes with remarkable fierceness, though James couldn’t read which way it was directed.

 

“He was our friend,” James repeated, slow. “I don’t know what happened to Peter, but I knew him, once. We all did. He wasn’t all good, but he wasn’t all bad- he was funny, and attentive, and clever, and helpful, and the guy who cried every summer holiday when we split. If you genuinely think all seven of those years were a lie, I don’t know what to say to you. I loved Peter a lot. Maybe what happened was our fault, maybe it wasn’t, but you can’t change that he was our best friend.”

 

Heavy silence lay, and James took off his glasses to rub tiredly at his eyes. His parents had used to call him a bleeding heart, the kind to collect broken birds and keep them in his nest- he’d suspected, growing older, that whatever nest he kept his birds in wasn’t necessarily a good place for them to be in. He’d certainly enabled Sirius’s worse traits for far too long, had made Remus’ self-loathing increase through his silence, had messed about with Peter in ways that now made him wonder if… James loved, always, tremendously, but it had become easy to think that perhaps the very people he loved would have been far better off without him.

 

“You’re right,” Remus sighed, breaking the silence as James opened his eyes. Remus looked exhausted, his expression drawn as he looked up. “I don’t know if Peter was a good man, but he was a good friend for the longest time. Whatever we did…”

 

He trailed off. James wished Remus would open his mind once in a while, but the support had taken him aback, coming from their resident cynic. He gave Remus a grateful look, and Remus watched him quietly before shaking his head resignedly. James, not for the first time, wondered what Remus saw when he looked at him.

 

“I’m sorry for what I said,” Lily said, aloud, turning the focus towards her. “I didn’t mean you were to blame for what Peter did. You may have been far from perfect examples, but I think there are very few scenarios in which Peter fared better with someone else than he did with you. It’s- easy to blame yourself when things like this happen, but it- it isn’t always you. Peter was happy, with you lot.”

 

She gave James an apologetic look, which he brushed aside. He cringed to think about how he’d been in school, riding on the high of popularity and talent. If he’d learnt anything valuable about mankind in school, it was that power was a corrupting force, and he himself had been one of many to take undue advantage of it.

 

“It’s not like you were wrong, Lily.”

 

“I was, though,” Lily disagreed. “To put it that way. If Peter walked this path, it’s that it had always been there for him to walk. You didn’t build it for him. You didn’t make his choices.”

 

“People are born good or bad,” Sirius said, bitterly, his voice coming as a shock after his long silence. “What happens to them afterwards can make them act one way or the other, but it doesn’t change who they are deep down.”

 

“I don’t think that’s true,” James said, sharply. “Look at Dumbledore. He was as bad as Grindelwald, when he was young, but he grew out of it, and now he’s leading the Order.”

 

“So? Doesn’t mean he’s a good person,” Sirius shrugged. “He’s just acting for the greater good, like he always has been, only he’s decided this form of good is better than the genocide one.”

 

“Exactly! He’s learnt to fight for what’s right and not for his own twisted vision of it,” James protested. “He’s not the person he once was.”

 

“Who says he’s fighting because it’s right? Who says his twisted vision hasn’t extended to this? People can do great things with bad intentions and terrible things with good ones,” Sirius replied, biting. “You can’t outrun what you really are. Spending your life trying to redeem what you really are may help the world or whatever, but it doesn’t change _you-_ it doesn’t make you any less shite deep down.”

 

“That’s bull,” Lily said, shaking her head. “A majority of the world will still do what is right, even in times like these- are you really going to tell me that a lot of them are bad people doing the right thing only because- because, I don’t even know. I feel like I’m a bad person, sometimes; is every good deed I do just me trying to convince myself otherwise?”

 

“No, Lils, because you’re a good person,” Sirius sighed, tilting his head backwards. “Every thing you do practically drips golden-hearted.”

 

“Don’t give me that,” Lily exclaimed. Like the rest of them, she’d grasped just where Sirius’ conviction came from easily, and if James knew one thing about Lily’s opinion on Sirius, it was that she refused to let him estimate himself as anything other than he really was. When he’d been a twat, Lily Evans had been your go-to person to tell him so; nowadays she would strangle him before she let him lower himself unnecessarily.

 

“Look at all the people who grew up in miserable conditions and were practically destined to be bad- if you’re a terrible child because you’re too young to know better, that can’t possibly mean your conduct as an adult is only suppressing the evil of your youth or whatnot. People grow- people change. No one can be all good or all bad.”

 

“Acting good or bad isn’t the same as being good or bad,” Remus piped up, quietly. “Plenty of good people can be bad at the same time. Those who turn a blind eye to terrible things even if they disagree with those things- what are they?”

 

“Oh, _Callidora_ ,” Sirius groaned. “I wasn’t trying to start a bloody existential debate. You can think what you want, all right? Just leave it.”

 

“But your vision is skewed, Padfoot,” Lily bit back, arms crossed. “It’s not fair on you.”

 

“It’s not any of you that’s going to change my mind, though, is it?” Sirius pointed out, flicking his eyes around the room sarcastically. “The only evil that ever came into this house is what I brought in.”

 

It could, in another tone, have meant Peter- in fact James was almost certain he was talking of the other night when he said it. This didn’t change what Sirius was actually saying, nor what he actually thought.

 

“All right,” James said, then, in the tone he only ever used with Sirius. “C’mon. Debate over. Let’s have us a wander.”

 

Sirius got up at once, shaking his hair out of his eyes, and James cracked his back and exchanged a look with Lily. She made an unhappy expression, resigned to letting them go but conveying her worries about Sirius nonetheless. She was right, but Lily didn’t always know how to handle Sirius- she may have been more capable of thinking his way, but handling Sirius often meant _not_ going along with his train of thought.

 

The snow was still draped across Godric’s when they exited, now greyed lightly by people walking over it all day, and Sirius paused to give James an inquisitive look before they reached the gate.

 

“I told you we’d go flying, didn’t I?”

 

Sirius’ smile was knife-sharp, and James reached an arm out to reel him in.

 

“Mate, honestly. What’m I supposed to do with you?”

 

“You tell me,” Sirius replied, scoffing but allowing the intrusion easily. “So where’s the nearest flying field?”

 

“I know a spot, but it might be a little far for your puny human legs.”

 

“Look who’s talking, knobbly knees.”

 

“Nah, seriously, though,” James said, as they wandered out of sight. “It’s a tricky spot to get to.”

Sirius considered this, considered him, and then smiled.

 

“I happen to know someone quite good at getting into tricky spots.”

 

“Oh, good. I was getting worried I’d have to ask you.”

 

Easy like breathing, as always. James checked over his shoulder once, twice, pulled them behind the building, and jutted his chin at Sirius’ bandages.

 

“Easy on those, though. I’m only letting you out cause you usually do less dumb shite when you’re a dog than a human.”

 

“Shut up, antlers,” Sirius said, but he nodded begrudgingly. “I don’t actually enjoy having my arse beat, Prongs. I’ll be good.”

 

“Aight then,” James answered, obligingly, and closed his eyes. The hum of magic was familiar; the bizarre feeling of transfiguring somehow too. He focused his mind, ignored his body, and only opened his eyes again once he’d lost all his bearings.

 

A wolf-like black dog barked at him excitedly. James tilted his head once, feeling the weight of his antlers, and batted his lashes in agreement.

 

_Let’s go._

\--

They’d ran until James could barely make out the sign of any human civilization, lost in loping valleys of snow, then stopped for breath. There, James had decided their cover was good enough- it took him only a familiar flick of the wrist for his broomstick to come soaring through the skies, low down near the ground to avoid being seen.

 

His broom sat comfortably in his hand, and he rubbed his thumb contentedly across the hilt. Merlin, he loved flying.

 

“D’you need a moment alone?” Sirius asked, amused, and dodged with surprising agility when James made to hit him.

 

“That’d be lovely, actually,” James retorted, mounting his broom. “See you around.”

 

“Oi.”

 

He made a big show of taking off, halted when Sirius launched himself at the broom and brought him crashing down.

 

“All right, all right, you arse, get on. And hold on properly, for Godric’s sake.”

 

“One time, Prongs. It was one time.”

“As much as I enjoyed seeing you fall off a broom spread-eagled, this isn’t the moment.”

 

“ _One time._ ”

 

Having someone else ride behind him was always a little weird, but riding with Sirius had long become familiar, whether it be on a bike or a broomstick. James understood why Sirius loved his bike so much, but nothing could beat the slick speed of a broom for him; the feeling of freedom and agility.

 

Sirius, impatiently, hit his head against his shoulder. James chuckled.

 

“Up, up, and away.”

 

The broom shot upwards, and James smiled without meaning to, the wind whipping through his hair and his robes. He wasn’t flying fast or dangerously, more of a leisurely pleasure stroll than anything, but it was a welcome change nonetheless. Behind him, Sirius’ grip loosened a little- he could feel him shift to look around as the broom found a comfortable height to drift about from.

 

James let them drift a while, in companiable silence. He’d been having too many talks with people.

 

“Prongs,” Sirius finally said, tone not particularly identifiable, “About earlier. If I was right- no, shut up, let me finish- if I was right, and what I’d been saying was right, what would you be thinking?”

 

James thought it through.

 

“If people were really born good or bad?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Well, if a person was born bad and spent their life doing good things to shake it off,” James stated, slowly, never rushing thoughts when Sirius was asking these kinds of questions. “I reckon there wouldn’t be much of a difference between them and what I think is a good person.”

 

“But there is, though,” Sirius disagreed, shaking his head perceptibly. “A real good person doesn’t need to make an effort to be good.”

 

“I dunno, Pads,” James murmured, a little sad. “A bad person making an effort to be good sounds like a better person than one to whom it came easily, honestly.”

 

“No, no,” Sirius replied, annoyed. “The effort doesn’t count, cause it’s not done for the greater good. Those kinds of people are doing it for themselves- to redeem themselves, so that others will love them, whatever. It’s selfish good.”

 

“Isn’t all good sort of selfish in the end?” James asked, the broom swaying lightly from one side to the other. “If I want to protect people I love, or things I believe are important, it’s still subjective, isn’t it?”

 

“Not when it’s you,” Sirius sighed, tilting his head back. “Nevermind.”

 

That wouldn’t do.

 

“Mate,” James said, frankly, “Fuck your family. Not in the literal sense, cause that’d just be even more inbreeding, but fuck your family. You outgrew them long ago. I know you think you’re inherently bad and all, but from my supremely good point of view, you’re definitely not. It doesn’t matter if you feel like you’re fighting some hidden malice in yourself- the fact you’re fighting it doesn’t make you a coward hiding their true nature away, it makes you braver than most people I know.”

 

Sirius went quiet, and the hands around James’ waist flexed reflexively, listening.

 

“And even if you were inherently bad and just trying to be good or whatever,” James continued, suddenly fierce, “I wouldn’t fucking care. I met you when you were _eleven_ and full of stupid bigoted bullshit, and even then you were already non-evil enough to ditch all the indoctrination just cause a glass-wearing weirdo confirmed your ideas about it.”

 

“Maybe I was just trying to get the glass-wearing weirdo to like me.”

 

“Well, you’ve succeeded,” James retorted. “I don’t care if you’ve changed because of me or because of your inner good or whatever, Padfoot. I liked you then and I like you now, and you’re a good person in my eyes, right down to your _toujours pur_ core. Okay? And I can’t change what you think about yourself, but if this has all started up again because of Peter and Regulus, well-”

Sirius’ fists clenched. James paused, relented.

 

“None of that is you, Sirius. I was right there beside you all that time, remember? If it was good or bad- I went along with it, anyways. And if one of us is gonna assume responsibility for it, then we might as well both.”

 

He really wished he had the space to flip around.

 

“You know,” said Sirius, after a long moment of hearing the wind whistle by, “I hate it when you start talking straight.”

 

He loosened his grip consciously, and James waited him out.

 

“It’s not that I don’t want to believe you- course I fucking do, when do I not listen to you- but just… It feels like I’m cheating, or summat, if I listen. Like I’m choosing the easy way out. Like, yeah, course, I’m a good person now, sunshine and rainbows. Y’know? I _love_ Lily but she- everytime she tries to push it, it just feels more like faking it.”

“Honestly,” James said, and twisted so he could meet Sirius’ eyes, “From how quickly you slip down under, mate, I’d say _not_ listening is the easy way out. Giving yourself some credit isn’t gonna hurt you. If you think of yourself as a shite person all the time, doesn’t it become sort of an excuse? Never heard you make excuses for yourself.”

 

Sirius gnawed at his lip, brow furrowed. His cheekbones were prominent in the winter light, dark hair framing his hair graciously like James’ would never- it was mildly offensive to see it so restrained, given that wind was tousling his own hair into a knotted mess. He’d have to ask Sirius if one of his great-uncles had buggered a Veela at some point.

 

“Actually,” Sirius said, tentatively, halting. “I reckon you might be right.”

 

James couldn’t help beaming at that, even through Sirius hunching his shoulders defensively as he did. Had he been someone else, the broom would’ve spun a little, but James’ grip remained solid as he grinned back at his friend, mood bright and light.

 

“Come off it,” Sirius muttered, tone uncertain and eyelids lowered. “Dunno what this even means, now. For me.”

 

“Means you’re gonna start allowing yourself to acknowledge that you can and have changed, and stop only claiming your fuck-ups as your own,” James answered, cheer in his voice but seriousness in his glance. “Aight?”

 

“Guess it is,” Sirius nodded, reluctant but earnest. “Blast. You’re so…”

 

“So what?”

 

“Stupid,” Sirius answered, belying his words as he smiled strangely. “Really, flat out dumb, mate. I’m worried. Your wife is worried. Your resident werewolf is worried.”

 

“Ah, well,” James grinned, nudging him with his shoulder. “At least we’ll be stupid together.”

 

“Sap,” Sirius accused, but his eyes had grown light like the moon before sunrise, and all was well again. “Fine. You trapped me in the skies and had your psychiatrist moment. Can we get to proper bloody flying, now?”

 

“I’ll give you proper bloody flying,” James laughed, and they were off.

James had, in fact, considered his route carefully, but there were always unexpected changes going on in the Muggle world, and it was thus really not his fault that eight year old Caspian Johnson, having wandered away from his grandmother’s garden, found himself sitting wide eyed observing a strange man with a dog behind him fly on a broomstick across the frozen lake.

 

Caspian, being eight, wasn’t a hundred percent on all the happenings in the world, but he was quite sure that dogs and flying broomsticks didn’t usually cross paths much. In fact, nothing in his animal encyclopedia suggested dogs could fly at all, let alone on flying broomsticks. He squinted. Now that he thought of it, broomsticks couldn’t usually fly, either. Unless the man and the dog were riding a particularly ugly bird.

 

Birds, however, had feathers and beaks and claws and whatnot, which this stick looking thing did not seem to possess. And even then people didn’t ride birds, Caspian thought, pouting a little. He’d _just_ done a project on birds for school, and he’d not heard about this kind of bird once- especially not one being ridden by a man and a dog.

 

“Grammy!”

 

“Yes?”

 

Caspian inhaled, ready to bellow the rest of his question back to the house.

 

“Can people ride birds?”

 

“What?”

 

“CAN PEOPLE RIDE BIRDS?”

 

“Well, what a funny thing to ask. I don’t suppose so, unless they’re kept in a silly zoo or something.”

 

Caspian observed the trio as they edged further away. None appeared to come from a silly zoo, but then he wasn’t quite sure what a silly zoo was. Although the man was wearing what looked a bit like a weird coat-dress.

 

“What if they’re just flying about in the wild?”

 

“Dearie, the phone is ringing,” his grandmother answered, as Caspian sighed. “I’ll listen to you in a minute.”

 

It’d be too late by the time his grandmother managed to pick up, take the call, and totter all the way out to where he stood. He wished he’d asked for a camera at Christmas after all, instead of a radio. A radio had seemed like a good idea so he could block out the noise from his parents screaming at each other- they did that a lot, nowadays, because his mother was always out and coming back very late at night for reasons unexplained.

 

A sharp bark rang out across the lake, and he walked forwards a little to watch the two as they flied around. If only he’d had wings to fly after them. But that, Caspian considered, was also not possible.

 

A sudden, loud crash coming from behind him made him jump, and he whirled around in time to hear a loud scream from inside. Heart racing, Caspian was about to call out a question, when it happened- flashes of bright light, the sound of strange words being shouted, and then terrible terrible quiet. Even the birds had gone silent.

 

Inside the house, movement from behind the curtains.

 

His grandmother’s name danced on his lips, but he couldn’t bring himself to speak. There was a funny cloud closing in on the house- growing dark as Caspian finally managed to stumble backwards, into the forest clearing, away from the terrible figure beginning to trace itself above the cottage.

 

It was a horrible, horrible thing- a large, moving, gaping skull with eyes like fire, and a writhing snake contorting itself in its jaw. Caspian, falling backwards, couldn’t look away, certain that the skull was looking at him, that it would descend from the top of the house and swoop down to swallow him in its ghastly mouth. His eyes were blurring with tears, his grandmother’s name choked in his throat, and it was only when two loud cracking noises came from outside the house that he let out a scream and began to run, away, onto the frozen lake.

 

The ice was slippery and his limbs were jittery with adrenaline, terror infusing his whole being as he skidded onto the ice, well aware of how slowly he was moving, knowing that at any moment the skull would reach him and he would die. He skidded further, terrified, trying to regain control of his limbs, but the lake was immense and the skull was too strong- it’d be mere seconds before it got him, he knew.

 

The flying man and dog had completely slipped his mind, now, but had he looked towards the other side of the lake he might have noticed their conspicuous absence. From behind, there came the two self-same cracking noises from earlier, and Caspian, convinced now that he was about to die, wished with all his might there was some way to propel himself across the lake.

 

No sooner had the thought entered his mind that a sudden, unexplainable gust of wind seemed to come from nowhere, pushing Caspian with incredible might across the ice, his feet gliding as his eyes went wide. He was too shocked to register much beyond the speed, and abruptly it was over and he fell over into the snowbank.

 

His pulse thudded. Shaking, he extricated himself from the snow, and turned around ever so slowly, looking back. The lake lay between him and the house, and there, over the trees, the skull still hang, far away.

 

Two cracks, again. Caspian screamed and covered his head.

 

“Hey, hey, calm down,” a voice came, friendly and worried. “We’re not going to hurt you. It’s okay.”

 

Caspian stilled. Slowly, he opened one eye, then the other. From where he was crouching, he could make out a strange purple dress- it was the man with the dog.

 

He looked up. Up close, the man was young- younger than his parents, with brown skin paler than his dad’s and scruffy black hair. He was wearing thick glasses and a smile.

 

“It’s okay,” the man repeated. He crouched slowly down to Caspian’s level. “You’re safe.”

 

“I am not a wild animal,” Caspian managed, clamming up again. He shouldn’t have spoken.

 

A laugh came from behind him, and he whipped around to find another man there, the same age as the first, but pale and with long hair. He looked a bit like a rock star.

 

“I like this kid,” said the rock star, to the man with the dog. Then, to him: “You just did magic.”

 

“Pardon?” Caspian asked, bewildered.

 

“He’s right,” the crouching man said, smiling. “That wind that pushed you here- you didn’t think that was science, right?”

 

“Magic isn’t real,” Caspian said, doubtfully. He recalled the broom, and the skull. “Is- is that magic?”

 

Both men looked over to the house, then back, grim faced for a moment.

 

“Yes,” the crouching man said, sadly. “I’m afraid it is. But it’s bad magic, used by bad people. What you did was good magic.”

 

“Is flying around good or bad magic?” Caspian asked, choking on it a little. The men looked at each other, and his heart stopped.

 

“I’d reckon,” the rock star said. “It’s about the best kind of magic there is.”

 

“It’s true,” the crouching man said. “So I’m pretty sure what you just did is some pretty solid magic, too.”

 

Caspian thought this through, but he was too overwhelmed to focus. Instead, he blurted out what had been plaguing his thoughts ever since the skull had appeared.

 

“Is my grandmother dead?”

 

“I’m afraid so,” the crouching man answered, sympathetic, with heavy-hearted expression. “I’m very sorry.”

 

Caspian’s eyes welled up.

 

“Oh.”

 

“You see,” the crouching man said, softly, “There’s a war going on, at the moment. A secret war, between good magicians and bad ones. And the bad ones are doing really terrible things. I’m sorry we couldn’t save your grandmother.”

 

“Why did the bad magicians kill her?” Caspian asked, tremulously. “Grammy wasn’t a magician at all.”

 

“Some of the bad magicians just kill non magicians because they know they can’t fight back,” the rock star said, grimly. “That’s why we have to protect them.”

 

“What’s your name?” the crouching man asked.

 

“Caspian,” Caspian answered, a second later, deciding he had to trust him. “Caspian Johnson.”

 

Both of the men started.

 

The crouching man frowned deeply. “Caspian, your mum- is she often out late?”

 

“Yes,” Caspian answered. “Why? What’s going on? Are my parents all right?”

 

“I don’t know,” the crouching man said, worried. “Do your parents have any brothers and sisters?”

 

“My dad has a brother, and my mum has a sister,” Caspian replied, shaking a little again. “Why? What’s happened?”

 

“Is your aunt’s name Emmeline, by any chance?” the rock star asked, gravely.

 

Caspian nodded, tearily. Both men looked grim.

 

“Caspian, your parents and your aunt are all fighting the same war as us,” the crouching man said. “They’re good magicians, too. I think the bad magicians went after you and your grandparents to hurt them, to scare them off.”

 

“My parents can’t be magic,” Caspian said, hiccupping. “My mum works in the government, and my dad is a policeman. My grandma was normal. You’re wrong!”

 

“Your dad’s parents were normal cause they were Muggles,” the rock star said. “Your mum and dad, though- they’re magic. That’s why they wear weird clothes and have sticks hidden in weird places. Don’t they ever do things around you that they can’t explain?”

 

“Why would they not tell me?” Caspian hiccupped again, tears spilling down his cheeks.

 

“Maybe they thought you weren’t magic, and wanted to protect you,” the rock star shrugged. “Magic is real, and your parents both have it, Caspian. So do you. So do we.”

 

Caspian hated crying, but he couldn’t seem to stop. The crouching man got up.

 

“Come on. We’ll take you to a safe place, and then we’ll try and call your parents, okay?”

 

“No!” Caspian choked out, “I don’t want to go with you! I don’t want to leave! Leave me alone!”

 

“Caspian, please- trust us,” the crouching man said. “We are not here to hurt you.”

 

Caspian didn’t want to listen, but his eyes went back to the terrible skull, and he thought of his parents, and his lip jutted out. He wanted to go home. He wanted his room back.

 

Silently, he got up, wiped his tears, and gave the two men an unsteady look.

 

“Okay.”

 

“Can your broom carry three, James?” the rock star asked the crouching man, apparently called James.

 

“I don’t think so,” James said, shaking his head. “We’ll just have to Apparate.”

 

“You sure? The kid’s barely developed powers.”

 

“Unless we walk back,” James said, doubtfully. “We need something safe for the kid to ride.”

 

The rock star snapped his fingers. “Prongs. He can ride Prongs.”

 

“Who’s Prongs?” Caspian asked. James considered him.

 

“And you fly alongside?”

 

“I could use Snuffles?”

 

“Okay, yeah. It’s only about an hour and a bit away if I run.”

 

Any doubts Caspian was having about magic vanished once the man transformed into a large stag and allowed him to fearfully clamber onto his back.

 

He thought he might’ve fallen asleep at some point, because he was aware of the rock star hoisted him off the stag and onto something else, keeping a grip around his waist, but he managed to hear snippets of his talking anyways.

 

“…The Malfoy lot don’t know about it, how are they targeting their families the day of the mission?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caspian Johnson is only Angelina Johnson's older brother in my head, but he does exist in the HP universe as a one-time mention, so I made him Charlie Weasley's age for the sake of coherence. I love writing James- most of the time, it's writing about the others, too. He's also smart, so that's fun. If it feels like James spends too much time thinking about Sirius, I only half apologise- 1/ it's Sirius and James, and 2/ has any of your friends recently had to murder your other friend and then discover his brother was a Nazi? 
> 
> Love always, and please do comment or discuss by tumblr. Q.


	7. The Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things at the Order seem to begin to sort themselves out as the Marauders begin wondering where the war is headed; Remus and James go on a mission that mainly involves a lot of talking about feelings. The ghost of a secret hangs heavy over Remus' mind, until the secret is a ghost no longer, and everything goes to shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been... months, once again, but LMV has returned with its longest chapter yet, tying together quite a number of plots and themes that are of the utmost important as of now. I'm eternally dissatisfied with my current writing, but as exam season is nigh, I hope those of you who follow the story will appreciate this chapter; the start of a second act in this fanfiction. Happy reading.

Chapter Six: The Beginning

**_“Thing we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, if not always in the ways we expect._** ** _”--_** J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

 

\----

 

_“I don’t know if I could,” he said, out loud, and tried to meet James’ eyes. “You don’t understand how much everything you do matters, from our point of view. Half of what I think wouldn’t even make sense to you.”_

_“Okay,” James said, and bit his lip. “Maybe it wouldn’t. Just- don’t feel like that means I wouldn’t want to hear it anyways.”_

_“Right,” Remus said, and processed this. Maybe. “James- what’s going on with Regulus?”_

_James didn’t look surprised so much as unhappy to hear it, and he sighed as he replied._

_“I knew you’d know, eventually. And you know what I’m going to say.”_

_“It’s Sirius’ story to tell.”_

 

\----

 

It was a lucky thing James and Sirius were so often bored at Hogwarts, Remus thought, midway up the stairs. With their boredom had come the Map, trapped somewhere in the abyss of Filch’s office, and an array of spells, and the mirrors. Remus had mildly jealoused those mirrors- James and Sirius sitting on opposite sides of detention pulling faces, and him sitting forgotten between them. Still, now, as he struggled to hear past the wind whistling, calling for Lily, he was very glad for the means of communication.

 

“…You’re saying they’re trying to trap them all?”

 

“Yes,” Sirius barked, above the howling. “But listen, Moony- you have to make sure Vance and Johnson are called back, and you need to get Shacklebolt et co’s family safe. We came across them by complete accident- if the mission went as expected, they would have returned home to their families dead.”

 

“So the Johnson’s kid is with you?” Remus asked, verifying as he flicked his wand, focusing on good memories. “As in Augustus Johnson and Ingrid Vance.”

 

“That’s the one,” Sirius confirmed. “Remus, I don’t- how did they know where to find these people, when we were supposed to be finding them? It’s too big a shift- there must be something completely wrong in our intel, and it’s far too mistaken.”

 

The first time he’d woken in the Shack with the other three, Remus thought, and a silver wolf smoothly made its way across the room.

 

“Hang on,” he said to Sirius, and to the wolf: “We’ve retrieved Caspian Johnson- Death Eaters are going after the families of the Malfoy mission. Urgent return to home, do not let operation proceed.”

“Send it to Dumbledore,” Sirius called.

 

“And to the Johnsons,” Remus confirmed, sending the silver animal off as it inclined its head calmly. “I don’t know, Sirius, you’re right. How far away are you?”

 

“Not very,” Sirius said. “But it doesn’t make sense.”

 

“It’s like a reverse operation,” Remus confirmed. “Like they used our intel to come after us.”

 

“Another Peter?” Sirius suggested grimly.

 

“I don’t know. I- it doesn’t seem to work out. Unless- they’re tracking us somehow.”

 

“What, like with saying You-Know-Who’s name?”

 

“That’s a very powerful curse,” Remus said, shaking his head. “I doubt it. It would be more contained. And maybe it’s just the Johnsons. It could be a freak coincidence.”

 

“Freaky all right,” Sirius frowned, heavily. “Why does it feel like we’re losing fast?”

 

“I hate this,” Remus dropped, abruptly. “This cult of leadership. One moment he was just another maniac, now he’s the figure of nightmares. It’s too powerful. When we could face him down ourselves- it was a fairer fight.”

 

Sirius stayed quiet, a moment, and when their eyes met Remus ducked his head.

 

“Reckon you’re right,” he said, after a beat. “Do you think he’s really trying to beat death?”

 

“His name seems telling,” Remus sighed. “But there’s very little to do. Only the darkest of magic gets there, and even then I’ve never heard of it working.”

 

“But there are ways,” Sirius insisted. “Aren’t there?”

 

“I think I came across something of the sort once or twice, in the Restricted section of the library, but…” Remus paused. “You know, there were always a handful of books missing from there. I wonder if…”

 

“Used to go to school there, didn’t he? Good old Riddle.”

 

“No, yes, I know, but- it’s entirely possible there would have been something about it in some of those books.”

 

“Would explain why they’re gone nowadays. Don’t want anyone else getting ideas.”

 

“Either way, doesn’t help us. Or explain what he does.”

“Although,” Sirius said, “Someone must have taken the books.”

 

“Yes,” Remus breathed, slowly. “Dumbledore, most probably. He would know.”

 

“Dumbledore knows a lot more than he’ll ever let on,” Sirius said, acerbically. “He won’t tell, if he does know.”

 

“No, I suppose not,” Remus sighed. “Besides, those are only rumors.”

 

“Rumors are always based on truth,” Sirius replied. “Remember the one about you in sixth year? They thought you were into bestiality.”

 

“Oh, god,” Remus groaned. “No. Don’t bring that up. It was almost worse than the truth.”

 

“Based on truth, though,” Sirius said. “So maybe the dark overlord supreme isn’t trying to discover immortality, maybe he’s trying to raise the dead. Still going to have some truth there.”

 

“Inferi are far more common than immortals, though,” Remus shrugged. “Though there is technically an immortal around- Nicholas Flamel.”

 

“Shit, true,” Sirius said. “Reckon he could explain?”

 

“Not the same thing,” Remus hesitated. “It’s not quite as- permanent.”

 

“I don’t think I could handle living forever,” Sirius reflected, pensive, before shuddering. “Nah. Live fast, die young.”

 

“Live at an easy pace, die middle-aged,” Remus corrected, “Would have appealed to me.”

 

“You’re eternally middle-aged, Moony,” Sirius smiled, eyes brightening. “Right. I see Godric’s Hollow. We’ll be there soon.”

 

Once Remus turned, he found Lily standing at the foot of the stairs. Her face was serious, and he automatically frowned upon meeting her eyes, the banter fading back to the topic at hand. How much did the Death Eaters know? Who was safe?

 

“I don’t like this, Remus,” Lily said, hands playing with her robe. “I don’t like this at all.”

 

He needed to know more. That was the crux of it- the most painful aspect of this war. You never knew enough, not beyond what you were allowed to know. And it was understandable, with cases like Peter, with torture and double-crossing, but Remus would never be happy with fighting a war where his information was limited. Pinnacle of it all: who did know everything? What did they do with their knowledge?

 

Freak coincidences were far and few between, nowadays- Remus was almost certain that somehow, the Malfoys and their lackeys had known about the operation, and foreseen it. How? Who? Where to stop it, where to trace it back to? They had to check the facts they’d had- like what was really in that manor, and why’d they’d been so sure of it.

 

Crackling sounds awakened him to Lily setting up the radio, and it was about as he headed down to the couch that he heard the front door open; James and Sirius entering with a child of about 10 or so slouched over James’ back.

 

“Give him here,” Remus said, immediately, walking briskly their way. Remus loved children, handled them better than his friends did- this child had just witnessed the murder of his grandmother, and his parents’ fate remained uncertain. It wasn’t the time for James or Sirius’ casual demeanors. “Is he asleep?”

 

“Slumbering,” Sirius said, gratefully passing the kid over. He must have been younger than ten, Remus gauged, and he frowned just like his mother did. Remus remembered her- Gryffindor Prefect, in their school days. “What’s new?”

 

“Radio’s up,” Lily announced, briefly hugging James as he shucked his coat. “Oh, James. If you hadn’t passed by there…”

 

“They’re like bleeding cockroaches,” James said, irate for a moment. “You just can’t stamp them out.”

 

“Voice down,” Remus warned, shifting the boy as he maneuvered him towards the couch. “Close the door, please, it’s fucking freezing.”

 

“Watch your language around the children,” Sirius reprimanded mildly, even as he did as told. “Asshole.”

 

“You think you’re so funny,” Remus said, although he smiled a little.

 

Once he reemerged from the sitting-room, the trio was huddled around the radio- James squatting down in front of it, Sirius leaning against the wall, Lily seated on the edge of the table.

 

“Parents are fine,” James announced, filling Remus in, before falling quiet again over the crackle of the waves.

 

“…To announce today’s list of missing persons: Benjy Fenran. Robbie Jarvis. Susie Shinner. James Utechin. Irma Nott. A moment of silence for all of our fallen brothers and sisters.”

 

Remus closed his eyes and exhaled, the sickening feeling of mixed relief and despair sitting heavy upon his conscience. None of the names were known to him beyond perhaps brief mention- no one else he knew was gone today.

 

“Thank you,” the radio resumed, briskly, once the moment was over. “Weather for tomorrow predicts swift bursts of rain for those living south of Durham and Bristol; rain continues in north-east London as it has for the past two weeks. Sunshine may be headed towards Edinburgh and Cambridge, and Manchester experiences some heavy weather. Those living between Belfast and the coast are advised not to carry umbrellas, windy season approaches. A bit of freak lightning over Wales today, but nothing to be concerned about as of now. Password for tomorrow: Caspian.”

 

With a neat zipping sound, the station shut off, reverting to Muggle rock. Remus opened his eyes- James had pushed himself back onto the floor, and Sirius was absent-mindedly leaning forwards to raise the volume of the music.

 

“So they think the Malfoy fiasco is under control,” Lily said, sounding displeased. “A woman is dead. I wouldn’t say it’s _freak_ lightning.”

 

“I hate it when this happens,” James said, fists balling. “People don’t know enough. What’s going to happen if we keep on this path? Half-heard prophecies and half-told secrets making their rounds- and no one on the other side seems to be nearly as bad at keeping things mum!”

 

“This has been happening too much,” Remus agreed, meeting James’ warm eyes. “Either there’s one solid traitor selling false information our way, or we have a bigger problem.”

 

“Sometimes I wish the Muggles knew,” Sirius huffed, flipping his hair out of his eyes, “Just so this war could be fought in broad daylight. I hate all of this sneaking around, like we’re the ones with something to hide.”

 

“We’re fighting this war for the Muggles,” Lily pointed out, but half-heartedly. “I can’t wrap my mind around the Malfoy thing. How- it doesn’t make sense.”

 

“All I’m saying,” Sirius said, darkly, “Is that the next few weeks better be rich with Death Eater deaths.”

 

“We could do with some prisoners,” Remus said, equally morose. “Give us some extra intel for once.”

 

“Veritaserum the bastards,” Sirius agreed. “ _Then_ off them.”

 

“Alice said the next meeting was soon,” James said, thoughtfully, “And we’re expected. Hopefully it’ll clear the air. Being house-locked doesn’t feel like the most effective strategy the Order’s used so far.”

 

“Yeah, keep the fighting fit under house arrest,” Sirius scoffed. “Real win for the war effort, that.”

 

Remus shook his head and looked over at the Potters, but Lily was running a hand through her hair, and James gave Sirius a look of agreement. Neither of them was made for confinement; the latter even less, but Remus didn’t understand how Dumbledore imagined he could keep James “it’s definitely necessary to keep playing Quidditch during a thunderstorm” Potter under house arrest for much longer without providing him with real explanations.

 

“The meeting better provide us all with an encyclopedia’s worth of information,” Lily said, dropping her hair again from where she’d been aimlessly gathering it into a short ponytail. “Otherwise…”

 

 _Otherwise what?_ Remus wanted to say, but managed to stay silent. They’d all filled the blank themselves, anyways- otherwise not much, because there wasn’t much they could do besides boycott or threaten, and none of them would let the Order suffer that loss over something like that.

 

“I don’t want every piece of intel known to man,” Sirius retorted, pushing himself upright. “I just want to know that the intel I do have is fucking real.”

 

That was something else altogether. Remus nodded along reflexively.

 

“I don’t think the Order’s lying to us, Pads,” James said, but thoughtfully. “Or, I don’t know. Not this far, anyways.”

 

“God, no,” Lily protested, setting her hands down. “We can’t start getting this paranoid. The Order’s not the Ministry- it’s McGonnagal, the Weasleys, Mad Eye. Since when have we not trusted them?”

 

Sirius, sullen, looked away, and Remus rubbed the bridge of his nose.

 

“The whole Order will collapse if we stop trusting each other,” James said, sharply. “I am not about to doubt every little thing they ask me to do.”

 

“Easier than it looks,” Sirius said, hoarsely, crossing his arms. Silence followed the remark, only interrupted by a fearful cry from the sitting-room, and the subsequent appearance of a wide-eyed Caspian in the room. It took him a moment to register where he was, and then he instinctively moved towards James and Sirius, giving the other two a wary look.

 

“Hey, kid,” James said, smiling. It never ceased to astonish Remus, how rapidly James could slap on a smile. “Sleep well?”

 

“Where am I?” Caspian demanded, arms crossed defensively. The poor child would be traumatized for life, Remus thought- and shivered a little, thinking back on his own childhood experiences.

 

“At our house,” James said, patiently. “This is my wife, Lily, and my friend, Remus.”

 

The boy’s eyes went from the one to the other, and he flushed when both smiled at him.

“When can I go back home?”

 

“Soon,” James affirmed. “We’re just waiting for your parents.”

 

“Are my parents dead?”

 

“No, no,” James rushed. “We spoke to them while you were asleep. You just need to stay here a little bit while they make sure everything is OK back at your house.”

 

“Are they going to come get me here?”

 

“We’re going to go meet them close to home.”

 

“But home is four hours away.”

 

“Not with magic, it isn’t,” Sirius interjected. “Or did you forget about that?”

 

The boy’s eyes narrowed, and he looked away.

 

“I thought I might have dreamt it all, until I woke up here.”

 

A pause, as the other four considered each other, and then the Potter cat came grumpily into the room. Caspian’s eyes immediately lit up.

 

“Oh, you have a cat? It’s so ugly.”

 

“Do you like animals, Caspian?” Remus asked, nodding to the others. “Because there are a lot of magical animals I could tell you about.”

 

“Like dragons?” Caspian asked, suspiciously. “And unicorns and stuff?”

 

“And stuff,” Remus agreed. “In fact, I think we have a whole book about them for you to read through- _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. Would you like to?”

 

“I guess,” Caspian mumbled, “If it’s a proper zoological reference.”

 

Remus smiled, amused. “You can check yourself- I think it’s right in the bookcase over there.”

As the boy slowly shuffled over, James and Lily both made their way out of the room, hushed voices and all, the latter casting Remus a thankful smile as they did so. He didn’t mind baby-sitting for a while- they couldn’t well keep discussing Order secrets in front of a child.

 

“I can’t reach it,” Caspian said, interrupting his thoughts in a very reluctant admission. “It’s too high up.”

 

“I’ll pick you up,” Sirius suggested, pushing himself off the wall. Remus didn’t quite know why he’d stayed behind, but he seemed to have just been silently observing the two of them. “Here.”

 

“Hey, no, I’m not a _baby!_ ” Caspian half-screeched, turning a vivid red as Sirius picked him up. “Put me down!”

 

“C’mon, grab the book,” Sirius said, casually, through the sputtering. “Right in front of you.”

 

“Sirius,” Remus said, stifling a laugh. “Put him down.” The other Marauder complied, shrugging, and handed the book down to the boy, who remained a flaming scarlet.

 

“I’ll leave you two to it, then,” Sirius announced, and gave Remus a wink. “See you, kiddo.”

 

Caspian didn’t answer, but kept staring after him, and Remus wondered suddenly if perhaps-

 

“Don’t mind Sirius. He means well.”

 

“Who’s Sirius?” came the reply, as Caspian turned back towards him. “The- the one that looks like-?”

 

“Looks like?”

 

“Nothing,” Caspian rushed. “The one with the long hair?”

 

“That’s the one,” Remus agreed, and smiled. “He’s a cool guy.”

 

“I guess,” Caspian muttered, but his face was still tinged pink, and Remus had to surpress a laugh. He’d have to tell Sirius to stop breaking the hearts of even ten-year olds.

 

“Now, shall we have a look at that book?”

 

\----

 

The month following the failed Malfoy mission was relatively active, but thankfully brought comparatively little loss. There seemed to be some in-fighting with the Death Eaters, possibly due to the flurry of newcomers from Eastern Europe that the Order had tracked into the United Kingdom. Either way, their missions were more or less successful, and although it didn’t feel like the tide was turning, it at least brought them slight reprieve.

 

It had taken Sirius and Remus surprisingly long to move out of the Potter house, mainly because Lily and James both wanted to keep them under their supervision for as long as humanly possible, especially Sirius. It didn’t help that James and Sirius were extremely hard to convince to part- even when they started getting on each other’s nerves, it never seemed to occur to them to take a break from each other.

 

Still, Sirius hated feeling like he was imposing on someone, and James had graciously accepted to let him go, so they’d gone to Remus’ apartment, picked up the handful of things Remus actually cared about, and promptly moved into Sirius’ flat.

 

Living with Sirius was comfortably easy- all the years of sharing a dorm had accustomed to him, and without the other two around, the mood was less hectic. Sirius was out a lot more than he was in, which allowed Remus his solitude, and their bickering was generally pretty rapidly resolved. All in all, it was going pretty well, which honestly surprised Remus a little- he was so used to expecting the worst that he’d figured Sirius would throw him out quickly enough. Though he couldn’t say that he didn’t sometimes feel like they were three living in the apartment, considering how Sirius and James felt the need to whip out their mirrors about every half-hour.

 

“I feel like the stay-at-home wife whose husband is having an affair,” Remus complained to Lily, once, as they watched the other two try and one-up each other by creating more impressive bouquets.

 

“I _am_ the stay-at-home wife whose husband is having an affair,” Lily retorted. “So you can stop whining.”

 

In general, though, after the previous month, things were better- healthier, perhaps. Road to recovery and all that. Remus, however, remained plagued by three issues at the forefront of his mind.

 

The first, obviously, was Peter. Besides the grief and guilt, the more rational side of Remus was still trying to puzzle out how the dual role had operated, and how that kind of blatant betrayal could be stopped early, in terms of the Order. Which brought him to the second issue- that of the Malfoy mishap. There was still too much confusion over that whole fiasco; Remus had yet to obtain answers.

 

The third was, strangely, James and Sirius.

 

Over the course of their Hogwarts years, Remus had grown accustomed to being left out of secrets- James and Sirius never purposefully pushed him out of anything, but their symbiotic relationship simply worked too fast for anyone else to ever completely be on board with all of their ideas. He knew, though, how to recognize their behavior when they were _aware_ of holding secrets- he’d first learnt it during the time where they were learning to take their Animangus forms, but he recognized it too in the way they sometimes seemed to take deeper meaning in some random details mentioned at Order meetings. It wasn’t anything he could accusingly expose; just hushed voices, meaningful glances, and shoulder grabs.

 

Remus trusted James and Sirius more than words could say, even after what had happened with Peter- and he knew, too, that whatever it was would have its reasons for them staying quiet. Nonetheless, he wondered- it puzzled him, this secret, and he could only think of a few possible reasons for its existence.

 

He hesitated, too, to ask Lily about it- lest she reveal she’d been in on it, or lest she reveal she hadn’t noticed until he pointed it out. His other alternative was asking the boys themselves, but he was reluctant to do so- he wasn’t sure if they’d tell him, and he didn’t want to risk that.

 

With a sigh, Remus rolled out of bed. It was early, but they had a mission to go pick up, and he and James had arranged to meet beforehand. Remus was no morning person; he stumbled through the apartment as he went, too tired to dress himself without magic. He was halfway out the door when he thought to go pick up something to eat, and wandered back into the kitchen to pick up chocolate.

 

He didn’t know what motivated him to do what he did next, but he thought perhaps a mix of intuition and curiosity. Whatever it was, it made him slowly retrace his steps towards Sirius’ room, and inch past the doorframe to look in.

 

The room was still pitch black, and Sirius lay sprawled across the bed, covers kicked off and half his shirt pulled up to uncover the faint sheen of sweat covering his stomach. His expression was serious in the light, frown heavy, but he didn’t seem to be stuck in a nightmare anymore- Remus allowed his gaze to wander away, towards his desk, where lay an organized mess of trinkets and documents alike.

 

He wasn’t about to invade Sirius’ privacy, he told himself, and turned to go, but it was too late- he’d caught sight of the crumpled letter by the desk, the ink unfortunately gleaming in the light from the hallway.

 

_R.A.B._

Suddenly, Remus had an inkling what James and Sirius were being so secretive about.

 

 

 

The ride down to the meeting point was quiet. James and Remus sat side by side on the vaguely grimy seats of the underground, James’ gaze thoughtful as his fingers tapped an absent rhythm against the window-sill. Remus’ own mind wandered between Regulus and the mission at hand, searching for further answers.

 

He thought back to the confrontation with Regulus, what seemed like eons ago, and shivered. He’d really thought he was looking at the ghost of his best friend, for a moment- Regulus had slimmer features and darker eyes, but all of him, from his hair to his effortless grace, was deeply Sirius- or perhaps deeply Black, but Remus didn’t consider that family to count for much.

 

He’d let Regulus go- saved his life, even- for Sirius, and because he didn’t believe in killing, but as he mulled it over he wondered if he would have been able to do it regardless of all that. It was dangerous to have someone who so resembled a loved one on the opposite side.

 

In another world, perhaps Sirius would have been on the other side. After Peter, after hearing about Regulus (which he had, evidently, though Remus didn’t know when), it wasn’t so hard to picture him losing it, somehow- and the thought of having to face him down made Remus ill to the stomach. He had an inkling that he would be paralyzed, if it came down to it- and a darker suspicion that James might damn put his wand down in full conscience of it.

 

Lily had let slip something of the like; that after the whole Peter drama, the first night, James hadn’t even thought of being wary, once Sirius burst through the door- and that, afterwards, he’d said something like… Remus couldn’t recall. She hadn’t been very forthcoming, but he’d gathered James had confessed that his loyalty to Sirius ran too deep, even. Which Remus himself suspected, a little. He didn’t like hypotheticals.

 

As if he was listening to his thoughts, James chose that moment to knock their knees together, startling Remus.

 

“All right, Moony?”

 

“All right,” Remus answered, a little guilty. “Still half asleep.”

 

“Sirius keeping you up too late?” James asked, with half a wink that made Remus laugh and shake his head.

 

“Only because you two can’t hang up.”

 

James raised his hands in surrender. “Mea culpa. How’s life at the Black residence, though? Seriously.”

 

“It’s good,” Remus reassured, mulling it over. “We get along well enough, the two of us.”

 

“Yeah,” James said, nodding. “I’m glad. It’s better when you two… You know.”

 

“Aren’t left to our own devices?” Remus asked, with no real heat. “It is nice having some food once in a while, I suppose.”

 

“What’s your take on today, then?” James asked, after a warning glare. “Reckon we’ll do anything interesting?”

 

“Early mornings are good for busts,” Remus said, thinking it through. “But I’m not sure. I feel as though Order missions have been building up to something, this past week or so.”

 

“Yeah, exactly. Like something’s coming together.”

 

“Another Malfoy situation, maybe,” Remus said, though he doubted it. “I don’t know. It’s been quiet lately- it’s unsettling.”

 

“Makes you feel like they’re up to something.”

 

“Bastards.”

 

They fell silent for another moment, before James stood up.

 

“Next stop’s ours, isn’t it?” And, without letting him answer: “Say, Moony- I’ve been wanting to ask you- about us.”

 

“About us?” Remus asked, slowly. “What do you mean?”

 

The Chaser shrugged, pulling a face as he thought of how to word it.

 

“You know, after Peter, I started thinking- really thinking- about this friend group, and how it works,” James said, as Remus stood, making them eye to eye. “And Lils, well, I figure I’ve done my best with that, across the years. We know where we stand, and all. Sirius- I mean, Sirius’ a bit of a difficult case. I know what you all think- that I’m blind, or too good to see it. I’m not. But Sirius and I, we don’t work like other people do- we just happen, to each other, and I do my best to keep it from… Well, like.”

 

“James, no one’s criticizing you and Sirius -” Remus began, stunned, but James shook his head.

 

“No, mate, I get it, okay. It’s shit for anyone who’s not us, a lot of the time, and it’s shit for Sirius, a lot of the time, and I try to work on that. But it’s not as easy as it looks, really. Because it’s not like- you know, everyone’s always thinking Sirius is the problem, so to speak. That he’s the darker side of the equation, or that he’s the one with the complicated feelings, and all that.” James exhaled, shaking his head. “Truth of the matter is, it’s hardly just him. Sometimes, it worries me, how I feel about him. And I don’t mean that like… In any case, it’s dangerous, during a war. We’re dangerous. So I get it.”

 

Remus, taken aback, swallowed. “Okay, well. I- but you two work. We all work. It’s never going to be perfectly easy, but we work out, James. Really.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” James said. “But you and me? We need to work, too, Remus. After the Peter shite, we’ve fixed some of it, but only like- never talking about it.”

 

“It was never bad,” Remus said, uncomfortable.

 

“If it had gone on, you’d have cut yourself off from us,” James said. “And you don’t tell me what you think half the time, Moony. I don’t want you to be Lily, or Sirius, but it’s like you don’t know how to trust me, anymore. You’re always being wry, or resigned, but you don’t want to be honest all the way.”

 

“It’s not that simple,” Remus said, lowly, looking away. “None of us can match your trust, James.”

 

“I’m not asking you to be me, Moony,” James said. “I’m just asking you to be a bit more yourself. Talk to me. You don’t owe me quiet.”

 

Remus couldn’t put into words what he owed James. Seven years of love, of protection, of insurance, ten years of not caring about prejudice, ten years of fierce devotion, presented under the casual guise of _it’s what friends are for._ All three of them had their sight coloured by hero worship that would never quite be washed away. James could do practically no wrong in Sirius’ eyes; he could do many wrongs in Remus’, but he would never be able to hate him for them.

 

“I don’t know if I could,” he said, out loud, and tried to meet James’ eyes. “You don’t understand how much everything you do matters, from our point of view. Half of what I think wouldn’t even make sense to you.”

 

“Okay,” James said, and bit his lip. “Maybe it wouldn’t. Just- don’t feel like that means I wouldn’t want to hear it anyways.”

 

“Right,” Remus said, and processed this. Maybe. “James- what’s going on with Regulus?”

 

James didn’t look surprised so much as unhappy to hear it, and he sighed as he replied.

 

“I knew you’d know, eventually. And you know what I’m going to say.”

 

“It’s Sirius’ story to tell.”

 

“Yes. It didn’t happen on purpose, Moony. But you know how he is. Anything personal gets out, and he’d rather die than talk about it.”

 

“I suppose it’s of no use to ask you to be careful.”

 

“It’d be equally useless to tell you were are,” James said. “But there’s nothing happening that we can’t cope with, Remus.”

 

“What did Lily have to say about all this, then?”

 

James blinked. “Lily doesn’t know.”

 

Remus stared at him for a beat, caught off-guard. “But-”

 

“I _love_ Lily. And she knows me damn well. But you two have known me damn well for ten years. She barely knows who Regulus is, Moony.”

 

“Right.”

“Listen,” James sighed. “I can tell Sirius you’ve figured it out, and you two can talk about it. He doesn’t like lying to you, anyways.”

 

“Very good at it, though,” Remus muttered, without resentment. “It’s all right, James. Thanks.”

 

James gave him a troubled look, and threw an arm around his shoulder to hug him to him as they got off the train. Remus, resigned, let him, sinking into the familiar comfort. He was all right, really. The talk had drained him, a little, but he felt solid- more grounded than he had in a while.

 

“Fags,” a man muttered, brushing past them, as James whipped his head around to send him an exaggerated grimace of a smile.

 

“Come on, darling, let me buy you a chocolate.”

 

“You know me so well, dearest.”

 

 

 

Their mission, as it was given to them by a tired but upbeat Frank Longbottom, was relatively easy- they were tracing a source into the Death Eaters, and they had to go take down a known Snatcher hive. Not that many competent wizards were needed for this kind of Snatcher base- in these cases, they were young and inexperienced magic users, often lacking proper magical training. A lot of them turned coat once they were retrieved from enemy lines, having been more or less coerced into cooperation.

 

The area clarified exactly how the Death Eaters had won this lot over- it reeked of squalor and disease. Remus wrinkled his nose. How he hated this process- seeking out the lowest of society to exploit their very weakness. It was the same with the werewolves- monsters like Fenrir Greyback may have been in it out of sadism and cruelty, but a great many were just bitter lost souls, outcast and mistreated by the world until they no longer saw any option but empty revenge.

 

It was, in a word, tragic; Remus desperately wished the wizarding community would realize that these kinds of wars wouldn’t occur if they weren’t so deeply flawed as a society. From muggles to muggleborns to “half-breeds”, the wizarding world was deeply ingrained in prejudice- locking up all the Grindewalds and Dumbledores would do jack shit if there wasn’t a bigger shift.

 

“They really do go for the people who can’t do anything but succumb, huh,” James said, grimly, echoing his thoughts. “Shall we go in together, or would you rather split up?”

 

“Split,” Remus nodded. “You seek out the documents, I’ll be the big bad.”

 

They entered the building under the Cloak, to bypass any kind of guard, and Remus emerged from beneath it with the necessary fanfare, blasting a hole through the roof as though he’d fallen through it.

 

Immediately, a swarm of Snatchers descended upon him from all sides, as general uproar begun. People were emerging from every nook and cranny, startled, scared, and vicious. A lot of the spells flung his way were strange, more like hexes than real spells; although the high numbers made it straining, Remus fought them off with rather saddening ease. This lot wasn’t made for combat.

 

One, screaming, dropped from above; Remus deflected him into a line of others, then quickly formed a shield to resist the dripping black sludge thrown his way. Tell-tale pops were making themselves heard as some fled the scene, but there was a strange determination to a lot of them.

 

“Where’s Andy Murkin?” Remus called, above the shouting.

 

“Don’t know nobody called Andy Murkin, muggle-lover scum!”

 

“If Andy Murkin isn’t handed over, I’ll send fore reinforcements,” Remus threatened, and felt the strain in the room.

 

“We don’t know anyone called that!” the same voice shouted, but it was taut with tension, this time. Remus frowned, as he ducked under a blast- these kinds of kids had no loyalty whatsoever, and the threat of the Order descending on them usually caused them to flee if not surrender. In which case, there must have been…

 

“They can’t do it, whatever they said they would,” Remus called, throwing up a bigger shield to buy some time. “Death Eaters lie! It’s what they _do._ ”

 

Commotion. He should have guessed someone had scared them into silence.

 

“I don’t know no Andy Murkin, so fuck off!”

 

“He’s got a list!”

 

Silence fell for a moment, before accusations and shouts were abruptly flung across the room, but Remus had heard the fearful voice- a list. A list of double agents? A list of targets? A list.

 

He had no idea where James was, but he hoped he’d heard, at least- a list.

 

“Get out of here,” the original leader was now shouting, a hint of desperation in their voice. “We don’t know anything!”

 

Remus flicked his wand once, twice, and suddenly the whole room was deadly quiet, his voice the only one audible.

 

“The Order can protect you. All we need is the list. We’ve got no business with you, and you’ve not hurt any of ours yet. Don’t let yourselves end up on the wrong side of this war.”

 

Slowly, he lowered his shield and flicked his wand again, returning their voice.

 

The leader was hesitating, all eyes on him- he must have been near sixteen, eyes sunken and skin a faded brown.

 

“Why the fuck should we help you? You’re fighting to lose- and you’re fighting for _muggles_.” The last word was accompanied by a spit, a rumble of agreement going through the room.

 

“Maybe you hate muggles,” Remus said, shrugging. “But the Order isn’t only fighting for them. You think You-Know-Who and his cronies are fighting for a better world? He’s insane; a psychopath. If we’re not all dead by the time he’s won, you’ll live policed by fear and hatred, in this same shithole.”

 

“I’ve got him,” James announced, appearing atop a flight of stairs holding a struggling young man. “But he won’t spit it out.”

 

“Where did- how did he get there?” someone exclaimed, as James blocked a flurry of jixes.  
  
“The choice is yours,” Remus said, reasonably. “But we have him, now, and it’d be easy to pretend you told us. The Death Eaters won’t take your word for it.”

 

“All right, fuck!” Andy Murkin exclaimed, trembling. “The list’s stuffed in the hog’s head by the door.”

 

The room stayed quiet as Remus slowly reached for it, the crumpled list flying gently into his hand.

 

“How did you get this?”

 

“I’m supposed to pass it on today,” Murkin said, shivering. “They dropped it off last night, it was just to be low-key, they didn’t’ know you’d caught one of us a day back, please, they’re going to kill me…”

 

“ _Geminio,_ ” Remus said, and neatly stuffed the one copy into his pocket. “Here. Hand this over.”

 

“They’ll know you have it,” the leader said, mutinously. “Cause you’ll do something about it.”

 

“They won’t know where we got it from,” Remus said, “Unless you tell them.”

 

Helpfully, James flicked his wand, fixing the damage the fighting had done to the warehouse.

 

“They’ll figure it out,” a girl called, from somewhere further back. “They always do. They’ll spell us for it.”

 

“We could Obliviate you,” Remus said, though the idea was unappealing. “If it was safer.”

 

The room rumbled with the suggestion.

 

“Tell you what,” James said, thoughtfully. “We’ll find them the perfect suspect. They won’t even think of you. What’s the Death Eater look like that came and gave the list?”

 

“Thick, mad, Russian accent, no hair, missing half his nose,” one of the kids recited.

 

“Jogrov,” Remus suggested. James nodded. “There you go. We’ll mention him to one of our agents, and there’ll be a whisper, and the Death Eaters will hear Jogrov and not bother to ask after the street rats he used.”

 

“Good for him,” Andy Murkin muttered, shaking James off. “Fucking twat.”

 

“Swear it,” the team leader said, suddenly, eyes harsh. “That they won’t come after us.”

 

They had no reason to do so- they had all the power here, and the kids knew it. And yet, there was something touching in it, to Remus- hope of a change of heart. He was about to answer when James slid past the stairs to bend down and extend his hand.

 

“I’ll make you a Vow, if it makes you believe me.”

 

The teen yanked away as if burned, the room pulling back.

 

“That’s powerful magic,” he said, clutching his wand to his chest. “We don’t fuck with that shit.”

 

“Well, the Order keeps their word,” James said, seriously. “But we don’t do it for just anyone. If we keep you safe, you keep others safe.”

 

A rumble.

 

“Yeah, we’ll see. If you keep your word an’ all.”

 

They made their way out of the building and out of the street with tenscore-odd eyes on them, and James smiled tiredly.

 

“Got the list.”

 

“We got that, all right,” Remus confirmed, and cast a look back. Most likely they’d never hear about them again.

 

“Let’s have a look, then,” James said, pointing his head at Remus. “Before it’s handed over.”

 

Remus unfolded the paper carefully, eyes skimming down the rapidly penned names.

 

_Cornelius Agrippa. Cassandra Vablatsky. Hengist of Woodcroft. Ignatia Wildsmith. Philippus vn Hohenheim._

The last name was circled.

 

“Famous witches and wizards,” James said, blankly. “In fact, I think I have their Chocolate Frog cards. What’s this?”

 

“Code terms, obviously,” Remus said, frowning down at it. “But I don’t know what for.”

 

“Von Hohenheim was who again?”

 

“Paracelsus, James.”

 

“Oh, right- the alchemist, right? Parseltongue?”

 

“That’s him,” Remus agreed. “Maybe the Parseltongue came into play somehow.”

 

“I’m trying to remember what they’re classed as,” James said, frowning. “He’s definitely a gold card, but the others aren’t.”

 

“I don’t know why I’m surprised,” Remus admitted, a little amused at himself. “Somehow I expected to see some clear indication of whatever this mission was about.”

 

“List of top secret Death Eater plans,” James echoed, mockingly. “Top ten secret weaknesses of Lord Dickhead himself. Top ways to win a war against an egomaniac dictator.”

 

“Stuff it, James.”

 

“Hopefully, the Order does their usual good job of knowing more than we do,” James said, grin fading. “Or, at least, Dumbledore’s job.”

 

“Amen to that.”

 

“Funny how we just so happened to have learnt about this group the day before the other lot, isn’t it?”

 

“Lucky thing, that,” Remus murmured. He folded the list back into his pocket. “Shall we?”

They made their way back into the city as it began to awaken. James always seemed to be enjoying all the small details of the Muggle world- his eyes twinkled as he took in the busy London streets, a group of kids running by laughing on their way to school. Something about the sight, though, was triggering memories- ah, yes, he knew why.

 

For a moment, he wondered if he should bother to voice his realization, but then- this was James.

 

“I had,” Remus said, quietly, “The worst nightmare of the past year, last week.”

 

At that, James looked up, meeting his eyes as his smile slipped away.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I can’t remember what it was,” Remus continued, with half a smile. “Luckily, maybe. But I remember when I woke up, I was convinced- _entirely_ convinced that I was dead.”

 

“How long did it take you to recover?”

 

“Maybe ten minutes,” Remus shrugged. “I’m not sure. But I think I must have been making some kind of noise, because Sirius was standing in the hall once I came back to it.”

 

“Wand at the ready, I suppose,” James said, shaking his head. “Funny- I had one too, about the same time ago.”

 

“Forgotten it too?”

 

“I wish,” James said, bitterly. Remus eyed him inquisitively, and he smiled twistedly, looking away. “I was in the- you know, the time You-Know-Who tried to get us to join? I was there.”

 

Remus’ jaw set instinctively, remembering the incident. It had been so surreal, just barely out of school, and the man himself in front of them, offering eternal glory and great powers.

 

“Right.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” James chuckled, tiredly. “And there…Well.”

 

He swallowed. “And there was this- scale, thing. And I couldn’t really see what was in it, but I knew- there was Lily, and there was Sirius. And there was this voice saying, choose, choose, or they both die.”

 

He shook his head again, grimacing as Remus stared. “Yeah, yeah. And ‘course I was saying no, no, no need for that, take me instead, make it easy, you know? And they were saying no, either one dies or they both do.”

“Christ, James,” Remus said, horrified at the idea. James Potter’s worst nightmare ... He would have asked him to stop, but it was clear James hadn’t shared this with anyone; he was dying to get it out of his system.

 

“So, you know, I was there, and Lily was going no, James, save Sirius, save him, he’s your brother, and Sirius was just saying all these- horrible things, because he was trying to get me to save Lily, and I couldn’t- you know? What could I do?” James said, helplessly, and stopped walking. His eyes met Remus’ again. “What could I do?”

 

Remus shook his head mutely, watching him closely.

 

“Lily was shaking me awake, course, so I started to lose the thread, but I remember I turned away, and I was shouting, and the voice came up to me and lifted its mask, and it was Peter,” James said, pausing. “Yeah. But he was- old, and disgusting, and I couldn’t speak, and he said, hah. He said: “You should have chosen me”. Funny how that works, isn’t it? And then I woke up.”

 

“Fucking hell,” Remus said, at a loss for words. “And you didn’t say anything?”

 

“What was I going to do? Tell Lily?” James said, with half a laugh, before his expression acquired the pallor of genuine fear. “Remus, if that ever happens-”

 

“It won’t, James. They’d never get to that stage.”

 

“But if it did,” James repeated, almost feverish. “If it did.”

 

“It won’t,” Remus repeated, grabbing his shoulder. “James. It won’t. You don’t need to know.”

 

“But I do,” James said, hoarsely, his eyes shining. “The thing is, Remus. I do.”

 

Remus had nothing he could say to that, and he didn’t want to know. _Merlin_ \- he did not want to know this.

 

“It doesn’t matter, James. It doesn’t. It was just a nightmare. Not real life.”

 

“I know that,” James said, snapped almost, and blinked his eyes dry. “Shit. Sorry, sorry. It’s nothing.”

 

“It’s not _nothing_ ,” Remus retorted, insistently. “But it’s not _happening_.”

 

“Okay, yeah,” James said, exhaling. “Okay.”

 

“No, really,” Remus stressed. “James.”

 

“Okay, okay,” James said, meeting his eyes at last. Remus let out a long breath.

 

“And you tell me I need to let my inner angst more often.”

 

“You do,” James said, colour returning to his cheeks slowly. “Doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

 

Remus ran a hand through his hair and hooked an arm through James’.

 

“You know what? I think we deserve a coffee.”

 

“Coffee it is,” James said, almost smiling.

 

 

 

In the end, Remus almost saw it coming. None of the others did, but something, just something, had made him envision this outcome, and never quite dismiss it. Something in the mood, in the stars- perhaps even just in the way Dumbledore addressed them.

 

After their mission, it took about two weeks for a new Order meeting to be called- a proper one, with everyone that could make it, in Hogsmeade of all places. Remus and James had shared their intel with HQ and with the other two, but hadn’t learnt much more in exchange, beyond a few details. Remus had gathered the names were in fact codes for locations, and the names had nothing to do with the chocolate frogs, unsurprisingly. Other than that, he was left to theorize: he had a vague idea that perhaps the locations were hideouts or meeting places, and that the Order was chasing a source.

 

Hogsmeade was startlingly familiar as he and Sirius made their way up to the Three Broomsticks; they amused themselves by recollecting varied experiences they’d had in the shops. Zonkos had been a Marauders favourite, of course, but they’d spent hours in Honeydukes, especially once they’d figured the passage out. Madam Puddifoot’s was Sirius’ nightmare, and Peter had somehow believed in the rumours about the Shrieking Shack being haunted despite going there once a month.

 

Remus felt odd, watching the Shack- a place of painful memories, and yet a symbol of friendship. He could never look at it without remembering the Snape incident- he wondered what Snape was like nowadays, open Death Eater that he’d become. It was always a little surreal to think about their old classmates as Death Eaters- people who’d been a bit annoying or a bit assholeish, suddenly murderous fascists.

 

“Haven’t seen Rosmerta in ages,” Sirius said, interrupting his train of thought as he turned away. “Reckon she’s married yet?”

 

“Rosmerta? Nah,” Remus said, cheerfully. “Still waiting on a good man.”

 

“That’d be me, right?” Sirius said, spinning to walk backwards. He’d recovered his normal state slowly- after the long period of injury, it was a bit of a shock to see him back to his old self. “Cause I’m game to go.”

 

“I said a good man, not you,” Remus scoffed. “Maybe I meant myself.”

 

“I thought you said good man?”

 

Their banter continued all the way down to the pub, where they were greeted by a beaming Madam Rosmerta, still blonde and buxom as always.

 

“Say you’ll leave this place behind and come to London,” Sirius pleaded, her hand in his. “I can’t bear the distance.”

 

“Oh, you incorrigible man, Sirius Black!” Rosmerta puffed, batting him away. “At least James settled down nicely! When are you going to find yourself someone?”

 

“I already have, Rosie,” Sirius said, earnest, as Remus dragged him away. “She won’t listen to me.”

 

Their mood faded a little once they were in the cool upstairs office, but the abundance of familiar faces made for good spirits. Remus found himself dragged into conversation by Arthur Weasley, as Sirius and Alice Longbottom chatted up a storm.

 

“Remus Lupin,” a familiar voice said, interrupting Arthur’s tirade. “I believe you’ve grown even taller.”

 

“Evening, Professor,” Remus said, smiling warmly at the sight of McGonnagal. “It’s good to see you- it’s been too long.”

 

The witch nodded sharply, a hint of a smile on her strict face.

 

“In these times, it does seem as though a handful of months constitute an eternity, yes. I’m glad to see you and your partners and crime have recovered.”

 

Remus smiled, albeit painfully, at the thought, prompting McGonnagal to shake her head.

 

“I never thought Pettigrew would- such terrible things, a war does.”

 

“Yes,” Remus managed, the older woman’s genuine emotion particularly difficult to bypass. His eyes stung. “None of us- suspected.”

 

“Well, I would assume not,” McGonnagal sniffed, shaking her head. “Barely out of school, the lot of you.”

 

“Minerva McGonnagal,” Sirius exclaimed, appearing from behind Remus to fling an arm across his shoulders. “My absolute favourite person in the world. How are you?”

 

“Apparently, more sober than you are, Mr. Black,” McGonnagal replied dryly, but Remus had caught the twinkle in her eyes. “One would swear you’ve not aged.”

 

“You don’t look a day older yourself,” Sirius said, winking as she rolled her eyes. “Say, are you planning to overthrow Dumbledore anytime soon? I’ve been thinking the Order needs a little novelty, you know.”

 

“Incorrigible,” McGonnagal sighed. “I count my blessings the lot of you are out of my House.”

 

“Must be terribly dull,” Remus said, smiling as Sirius laughed. “Practically out of a job.”

 

“I think Mr. Filch fears unemployment, yes,” McGonnagal allowed, lips quirking upwards. “I myself am enjoying the return to comparative normalcy.”

 

Her eye turned critical as she surveyed Sirius, whose smile slipped a little.

 

“Although normalcy is lacking, nowadays.”

 

“Yeah, well,” Sirius said, heavily. “ _C’est la vie_.”

 

“It shouldn’t be,” McGonnagal replied, shaking her head. “This kind of war does not deserve your youth.”

 

“Quite right, Minerva,” Dumbledore pronounced, gravely, as he made his way over. Remus immediately inclined his head in greeting, and the great man waved his hand in salute. “The finest witches and wizards of the century, surrendering their freedoms for our cause.”

 

“You give us too much credit,” Remus said, even as Sirius remained mutinously silent. “Anyone would do it.”

 

“But they do not,” Dumbledore said, “And that makes you exceptional.”

 

Then, abruptly, clapping his hands together: “May I have your attention, please? Could everyone be seated? I would like to get to the order of business.”

 

Sirius, arm still around Remus, steered them to the end of the table, as the rest of the room progressively settled down, gazes turning towards the old man standing at the head of the table. Remus was always irresistibly brought back to the Great Hall, at Order meetings, waiting for Dumbledore to make his welcoming speech.

 

“Thank you all for attending. I notice that the Potters are absent?”

 

“On their way,” Sirius said, “Probably got distracted.”

 

“Ah, to be young and in love,” Dumbledore said, wisely, as the table laughed. “Very well. We shall spare them the awkward introductions by awaiting their presence before we get to the heart of the subject. Alastor, if you would?”

 

“Right,” the Auror grunted, standing and leaning heavily on his cane. “Past few weeks, as you’ll have gathered, we’ve been chasing after some sources. After the fuckery with the Malfoys, the Order’s been catching back up on its losses. As I always say: CONSTANT VIGILANCE!”

 

He continued, unperturbed by the collective jump: “After tracing a number of their low relay sources, we eventually uncovered one or two names of interest- up and coming Death Eaters being watched by the Dark Lord himself.”

 

James and Lily chose this moment to enter the room, apologetic as they took a seat next to Remus and Sirius.

 

“Where were you two?” Sirius asked, shaking his head in mock annoyance. In fact, he’d smiled as soon as he’d seen James, but Remus was not prepared to deal with all of that.

 

“Got stuck talking to Madam Puddifoot,” James groaned. “Can you believe she remembers me from the Marlene incident? Old hag.”

 

“Godric, really?” Sirius snickered. “That’s hilarious.”

 

“Don’t let me talking interrupt tea time, ladies,” Moody snapped, from the front of the room. “Shall I fetch the cake?”

 

“Sorry, Mad-Eye,” James called, cheerily, and had the good grace to shut up after Lily rolled her eyes.

 

“As I was saying,” the surly Auror continued, “After the last set of missions, we managed to take several meeting points on, and ended up capturing about a dozen of the buggers.”

 

A murmur went through the room.

 

“As you can imagine, the bastards are hardly being cooperative,” Moody snorted. “But they’re all very useful sources of information. We plan on crushing the truth out of them, and-”

 

“What Alastor means to say,” Dumbledore interjected amiably, “Is that we intend to either employ them for information through the use of Veritaserum, or hope to use them as double agents. However, both of these operations require time and discretion, and thus need cooperation from our most trusted agents: in short, we need volunteers to open their homes to these young men and women.”

 

“What?” Molly Weasley asked, outraged. “Letting Death Eaters live in our homes?”

 

“Ah, dear Molly, you misunderstand. They would of course be under magical oath, and incapable of escaping or causing you harm,” Dumbledore corrected. “However, it is imperative that we thus disperse them away from the watchful eye of the Death Eaters.”

A rumble of conversation rose, as Remus stared at Lily in disbelief. He’d not quite foreseen this outcome- keeping a bunch of Death Eaters, bound though they were, in your own home, did not seem the wisest solution. Perhaps it had to do with Dumbledore’s views on redemption, or perhaps it was some strategy he didn’t understand; either way he couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea.

 

“Of course,” Dumbledore said, above the talking, “You will have the time to think this over, but if any volunteers are prepared to make a decision now, they are welcome to announce themselves.”

 

One or two odd people raised their hands slowly- mostly some of the hardliners, Remus noted- as the rest of the Order continued to murmur. Well- he would have suggested himself, but he wasn’t living in his own flat. He assumed James and Lily were out of the question too, what with their position.

 

“Thank you,” Dumbledore said, seriously, and then turned his glance backwards. “As a matter of interest, we do have one special case, amongst our new guests; someone who diverged a little from the rest. I assumed we might need to take it into account.”

 

“Nothing special about this one,” Moody grunted. “Scum like the rest of ‘em.”

 

Dumbledore gave the Auror a stern look as the room waited in mild confusion, before his gaze drifted to their end of the table.

 

“In fact, I think we might let Mr. Black do the talking himself.”

 

“About harboring Death Eaters?” Sirius said, slowly. “I doubt it.”

 

“You misunderstand, Sirius,” Dumbledore said, shaking his head, and Remus knew with sudden precision what was about to happen. “Mr. Black, if you please.”

 

And from the back door emerged, cuffed and bruised, the unmistakable figure of Regulus Black.

 

The room exploded into commotion, all eyes on the Black brothers, and Remus stayed immobile for a minute, blood draining from his face before he managed to turn his head sideways, to where Sirius and James had both jumped to their feet. Sirius’ eyes were fixed with a burning intensity upon his younger brother’s face; Regulus, pale and sallow, was looking everywhere but at his elder sibling.

 

“What the fuck?” James said, out loud, over the brouhaha. His hand had flown to Sirius’ shoulder instinctively, and Remus’ glance stayed on Sirius’ face, blank as it was.

 

“Perhaps we should leave Mr. Black and his brother alone for a moment,” Dumbledore suggested, calmly, but Regulus shifted, speaking up for the first time in a dull monotone that belied his young age.

 

“I don’t have anything to say.”

 

“Oh, _you don’t have-_ ” Sirius snapped, strangled, before clamping his mouth shut and turning away, hands pulling on his hair.

 

“Professor,” Remus began, shaking his head as if to clear it. “Why is Regulus here?”

 

“That is quite complicated, and also quite simple,” Dumbledore replied, and fixed his half-moon glasses. “You see, the Death Eaters want Mr. Black dead.”

 

“Why,” Sirius spat out, from where he was still turned away, body taut with tension, “Do they want _him_ dead?”

 

“Because Regulus poses a very real threat,” the old man answered, “To Lord Voldemort himself.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, I have absolutely no time to write, and your comments fuel my writing- I very dearly love Regulus Black, and I'm thrilled to have a go at including him in our ensemble for a while. Remus is a delight to write, as always, and I do so love his range of interactions; I would love to hear any thoughts.


	8. The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to the Order, Sirius and Regulus find themselves reunited after a decade of extremely difficult relations, and things do not seem to be in a position to improve. As always, their confrontations aren't exactly in the best circumstances for amiable conversation. Sirius is tired of the constant goddamn inner turmoil, but there's a war going on, and his mysterious little brother seems on the verge of cracking- perhaps it's time to face some old fears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, two updates in like two weeks instead of six months?? I was struck by writing fever, and well, as I may be gone for quite some time (as always), I figured I owed you all something to hold on to for the next ...x months. REGULUS should be of some worth- I love him. And Sirius. I don't know, you might be able to tell.

Chapter Seven: The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black

 

“ _I hated the lot of them: my parents with their pure-blood mania, convinced that to be a Black made you practically royal... my idiot brother, soft enough to believe them..._ _” -_ J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

 

\--

 

_“What, me? What bans me from saying anything about you, huh? Brotherly affection?” Sirius retorted, on the defensive._

_“You cannot,” Regulus spit out, “Say anything about- love. You led father to an early grave, and drove mother out of her mind, and left our family in shambles, out of your own self-centeredness- you know nothing of loving your family.”_

_“That was never my family,” Sirius laughed, incredulous. “I had to make myself one, remember that? You know, after you lot all promptly cast me out for not wanting every poor Muggle sod on this earth dead?”_

_“You chose to leave,” Regulus interrupted, furious. “You chose Gryffindor house. You chose James Potter.”_

_\--_

A distinct memory Sirius held from his earliest years of childhood was the yearly Christmas dinners with his family.

 

It was always a ceremonious affair, with the Blacks- his older cousins all present, Hogwarts age already, and him still tottering about, and Regulus still in his crib, quiet. He remembered uncomfortable clothes and heavy lidded eyes watching him, knife-sharp smiles and mutterings, as the family observed the Black heir in all his childhood glory, searching for potential. He’d been the brightest star, back then- naturally gifted, smart, eloquent, cultured, holding conversations in French with whatever elderly member of the family his mother steered him towards.

 

It was his innate duty, always, to show Regulus around. As a child he’d guided him to his feet, and later he’d been the one to pull his quiet, well-behaved brother from the shadows, letting the attention fall onto him for a while. No one ever seemed to notice Regulus when he wasn’t being shown to them- a shadow in conversation, always doing things just right, but unnoticed.

 

Sirius and Regulus had been close, then, very. Regulus had always followed.

 

The first time he’d realized something had gone wrong had been his last Christmas before Hogwarts.

 

Everything else had been the same, except that Andromeda hadn’t come, but no one commented upon her absence, and Bellatrix was flaunting her fiancé, and Narcissa was in talks with the Malfoy heir, and Sirius took in all the new gossip in stride, as he always did. His mother prepped him beforehand, always, with the newest politics, so that he’d know who to court and who to snub, and he was good at it, too, all canines when he smiled. He heard them talking, about him; that he’d make the pride of Slytherin house, with that sharp mind of his, that he’d make their lignée proud, with that silver tongue.

 

Bellatrix and Rodolphus had led the conversation, then, about their newfound champion, a great wizard who symbolized hope for a purer wizarding society, and the family had been approving, conversation focused upon the man, and his Knights, and his promises of returning wizardkind to its deserved glory.

 

“Well done, too,” Great-Uncle Phineas had said, snorting, and Sirius had smiled absently but felt something like unease settle in his stomach.

He was too clever, even then, to address the issue at table- it was afterwards, once all the guests had retired, as the house-elves rushed to clear the table, that he wandered thoughtfully down to the living-room, seating himself on the edge of the sofa.

 

“Say, Father- I don’t understand something.”

 

Orion Black had looked up, piercing green eyes indulging his eldest son, as he set his newspaper down.

 

“Yes?”

 

“This Walpurgis business,” Sirius had said, as his mother and brother looked up. “Why do they insist upon going after the Muggles? I understand ridding us of those who pose us some kind of threat, but are they not the inferior species? What threat can they pose?”

 

Silence had followed, and his parents had exchanged a look, unfamiliar to him. Somehow, the room had grown colder.

 

“The Muggles,” his mother had said, cuttingly, “Are an infestation. They pose a threat to us by their mere existence.”

 

“But how?” Sirius had pushed, insistent. “We’re stronger than them in every aspect!”

 

“They sully our blood,” Wallburga had hissed. “Our own ancestor, Isla Black, was one of those who degraded our name by marrying one of their kind! Wizardkind grows weaker with each cross-species marriage, and if they are not stopped, our very magic will dissipate.”

 

Sirius had hesitated. “But are there not many Mudbloods who hold powerful magic?”

 

“Whatever Mudbloods produce is not magic,” Orion had cut in, gravely. “It is a mangled, twisted thing.”

 

“All right,” Sirius had said, still trying to piece things together. “But- if they pose a threat to us because some wizards fall prey to their charm, should we not rather help remind wizardkind that they are unworthy? Surely it is impossible to rid the world of Muggles entirely, just for that?”

 

“Enough, Sirius!” Wallburga had exclaimed, rising. Her eyes were blazing. “You sound like a blood traitor, with that kind of talk- do you oppose what our very family was built upon? You know _nothing_ of Muggles and their misdeeds.”

 

“Your mother is right,” Orion had added, once Sirius had turned wide eyes towards him. His face was severe, eyes distant. “This kind of thought will not be tolerated in our household, Sirius.”

 

“I just,” Sirius had said, and looked back to Regulus, who always stood behind him when he fought with their parents. “I was just thinking-”

 

And Regulus had turned away.

 

He’d never understood how Regulus had been able so easily to ignore his conscience. Through the years, furious, he’d thrown many accusations at him, trying to understand- that he was a blind fool, following their parents, that he was a coward, too scared to stand up for what was right, that he was a selfish little idiot, too desperate for approval to distance himself from the Black grandeur.

 

In any case, Regulus had slipped away from him, one reunion at a time, and soon his damage control and quiet help upon Sirius’ return from Hogwarts in his first year turned to cool disapproval. There were times where Sirius couldn’t stand him, taking out his frustrations on his brother’s collected, disapproving glance, and times where he wanted nothing more than to have him back, shaking Regulus’ shoulders and begging him to snap out of it. It could never have ended well, the two of them- Sirius had been too focused on himself to notice how Regulus despised living in his shadow, too bright even in their parents’ hatred to make space for Regulus in their eyes.

 

That was the most pathetic part- that even once he’d been burned from the tree, even when Regulus had never been anything but perfect, his parents still couldn’t have cared less about him.

 

That last summer, it had been Regulus who’d stood watching him from the foot of the stairs as he lugged his trunk down them heavily, nose bleeding still as the trunk thudded down the stairs, his parents awakening and his mother’s screeching voice following him once she guessed what was happening. And Sirius had been shouting back, the worst he could muster, wishing plagues upon their whole house, promising the Black dynasty would die, relishing the hatred the whole house was radiating as he made his way out, and Regulus had been standing still, his eyes heavy and cold, and Sirius had wanted to punch him in the face.

 

“You’ll regret all of this,” Regulus had said, detached. “Once you realize where you’ve sunk.”

 

“Blow me, Regulus,” Sirius had spat back, despising the teenager that in no way resembled his little brother. “What’s this going to bring you, huh? They’ll never care about you.”

 

Something had flashed through Regulus’ expression, and he’d snapped: “Go on, then, go join your blood traitor friends, go live with _James Potter_ , see what it brings you, when no one there will ever trust you-”

 

“Fuck _you_ ,” Sirius had barked, over his seething, and his mother had appeared at the top of the stairs banning him from taking _one more step_ , and Sirius had shouted back to _go choke on your spit, you old bitch,_ and slammed the door behind him so hard the frame rattled, and had never spoken to Regulus again.

That had been in fifth year. They’d crossed paths at school, of course, and there’d been some minor skirmishes, but mainly Regulus avoided him like a plague or faced him with his Slytherin posse, and Sirius either called out mockingly to him or glared from afar. Only once in seventh year, sensing the new era dawning upon them, had he made his way to the Slytherin dormitory, and stayed outside for about three hours, thinking. Regulus had come out, probably warned by the portraits, and they’d stood facing each other in silence.

 

“I don’t want to talk to you,” Regulus had said, eventually, and turned away.

 

“Regulus,” Sirius had said, grabbing hold of his arm, and Regulus had shaken him off.

 

“This isn’t your dormitory.”

 

For one moment, Sirius had seen into his mind, the _it could have been, if you_ \- and stopped, stared.

 

“It was never about me,” he’d called after him, half-furious.

 

“Everything is always about you.”

 

 

When James had confirmed his suspicions, Sirius had nearly lost his shit. Regulus being super on board with their parents’ bigotry was one thing; Regulus actively going around murdering Muggles was another. And James had said- if we can save him- and Sirius hadn’t even known.

 

Of course he’d wanted Regulus on this side of the war. And as he got older, he thought somehow- maybe there was a part of him that had misjudged him. But if Albus fucking Dumbledore thought he was going to forgive and forget because Regulus was standing cuffed in a room full of Order members, he’d lost the goddamn plot.

 

Regulus like this was the Regulus he didn’t want to see- _I have nothing to say_ , unaffected, and Dumbledore had the nerve to say they needed time together, like he could just orchestrate, like Sirius wasn’t this close to-

 

“A very real threat,” Sirius grated, “To him. Regulus?”

 

Dumbledore nodded amiably, once more. “Mr. Black has devanced us all, I am afraid, in understanding some of the Dark Lord’s psychology.”

 

He was unable to unclench his jaw, and James’ hand on his arm tethered him to reality, the latter’s face stony with concern. He looked down to find Remus’ eyes on his, and something in them calmed him slightly, like he wasn’t just going insane, like his emotions were validated.

 

“What are you saying? That Sirius should host Regulus? I’m not sure that’s the wisest move,” James said, clear, over the tension in the room. “Shouldn’t we avoid adding personal concerns to the rest of the possible liabilities in this plan?”

 

“Very true,” Dumbledore said, still equally calm. “However, I also kept in mind that Sirius would not appreciate Regulus being placed in the hands of someone else, for a myriad of reasons, and thought it wiser for them to discuss this beforehand.”

 

He gestured to the door, breaking the spell somewhat: “Shall we?”

 

The Order slowly rose to follow, as Sirius and Regulus remained standing where they’d risen, and he registered the pause when only James, Remus and Lily remained in the room.

 

“You can stay,” Sirius said, slowly, not looking at anyone as he did, and felt Remus and Lily’s eyes meet. “All three of you.”

 

There was a long period of quiet, before he turned to face Regulus, who was still impassive, although his eyes were wary. His brother looked paler than he normally was, skinnier- his hair was a little uncombed, curling at the edges.

 

“What are you doing here, Regulus?”

 

Regulus shook his cuffs, macabre. “Ask your Order friends.”

 

“I don’t care how you were captured,” Sirius retorted, lip curling. “They wouldn’t have caught you without you knowing they were about to. What are you doing here?”

 

Regulus went stone-faced, and looked down, eyes blank.

 

“What, you expect me to believe you turned coat? Please. Cut-outs of the _Dark Lord_ on your bedroom walls.” Sirius shook his head, morose. “You have no moral high ground. You’re a cut-out of a person. The only thing you ever even remotely cared about was fucking house-elf rights.”

 

Regulus’ head snapped up, and suddenly something in his brothers’ eyes was alive, and recognizable.

 

“I can’t stand by them anymore. Not now. And it has nothing to do with you or your Order.” He gritted his teeth, looking away: “Maybe you’re on the right side of the war, I don’t know. But that- that was the wrong side.”

 

Sirius looked at him, really looked, and felt something in his chest jut out of place, like a barrier strained against. How badly he wanted to believe that- to think Regulus would decide of his own volition to come to them. But his burning hope was ragged with experience and unsolved anger, and he thought of Peter and felt cold again.

 

“Yeah. We’ll see how that holds up under Veritaserum.”

 

A sentiment akin to guilt danced through Regulus’ expression, but he shut up again, back straightening, and Sirius scoffed, disbelieving. So they were back to this.

 

When the rest of the Order came back in, Dumbledore raised a brow in his direction, and Sirius almost bared his teeth at him, but Remus’ hand was on his and James’ arm was around his shoulders, keeping him anchored, and he managed to clench his jaw and swallow it.

 

“Mr. Black, any decision made?”

 

“He’s coming with me,” Sirius said, dully, and avoided Regulus’ eyes. There was nothing about this he wanted.

 

They made their way back shortly afterwards, now doubly secured with a little escort (in their case, Mad-Eye) and doubly tense, silence suffocating. James and Lily had insisted upon coming back with them, which Sirius was grateful for and resentful of, given that without their weight he might have cracked and lobbed Regulus in the face, just to clear the air.

 

Mad-Eye, thankfully, was perhaps the best kind of escort, because he kept mostly silent aside from grumbling about Dumbledore being an idiot and making weird sound effects with absolutely no warning. The Marauders, more or less used to it, managed to contain their reaction- Regulus, not so lucky, jumped every time Mad-Eye suddenly whipped around to hiss at him.

 

Once they got to the apartment, it was their turn to be criticized for the apparent lack of safety, nevermind the several protection spells and warning jinxes put on the building, as Mad-Eye came up with one more insane weakness than the other to designate how close they were living to death, and refused to leave until they’d taken care of them.

 

“We can take them if they come, you realize,” Sirius griped, wiping sweat as he finished realigning the staircases.

 

“And when this slippery bastard makes his way out through them?” Mad-Eye pointed out, eye spinning madly. Sirius shut up.

 

Remus, being Remus, invited Mad-Eye for tea. Sirius wasn’t sure whether he, James, Regulus, or Mad-Eye fixed him with more incredulity, but there was a twinkle in Remus’ eye that belied his apparent genialness. The offer was, blankly, down-turned.

 

“All we need to do now is that binding spell,” Mad-Eye grunted, sticking his wand out expectantly. “Go on. Arms out.”

 

Sirius pulled his sleeve up, slowly, and there was a beat before they all turned to Regulus, who was stock-still. Sirius regarded him quizzically, but Mad-Eye laughed, sardonic.

 

“Already got himself a little mark on his arm, don’t you?”

 

Sirius’ stomach turned at the same time as Regulus flinched, but his brother extended his arm almost rebelliously, pulling up his sleeve to uncover the morbid skull and snake. Sirius’ fist clenched.

 

“All right-y,” Mad-Eye said, flatly, regarding them. “On top of our prior séance, as long as required, you’re officially home-bound, Black, and any exit made will be in the company of Black senior here. He will be able to tell wherever you go. Any problems with this?”

 

Regulus shook his head, and the old Auror snorted.   


“Rhetoric, Black. We don’t deal with Death Eater scum. _Porteccio._ ”

 

Spun silver wrapped itself around their wrists, uncomfortably close to the kind of silver engraved somewhere in Sirius’ mind, and Regulus jerked back a little, as though it hurt. The magic settled, leaving a fine line of silver wrapped like a circlet around both their wrists, and by contrast the Dark Mark seemed only more grotesque, gaping maw and all.

 

“DUCK!” Mad-Eye suddenly roared, making them all throw themselves down bar Regulus, who instead almost fell over in shock. Sirius, cursing profusely, gripped his wand as James looked up from where he was shielding Lily, and found nothing but the Auror frowning down at them.

 

“The fuck, Mad-Eye?”

 

“In the time you morons were admiring your new jewelry, any Death Eater could have incapacitated three of you without even thinking twice,” the Auror snapped, crossing his arms. “Do I need to remind you? CONSTANT VIGILANCE!”

 

A collective silent side-eye met this statement, although the man was technically correct. Moody may have had eyes at the back of his head, but they were cautious enough without spending their every breathing instant on high alert. Then again, perhaps it explained why the man had remained alive so long- but a life spent in paranoia, in Sirius’ not-so-humble opinion, was not a life worth living.

 

“Thanks, mate,” James grunted, getting to his knees. “Having our backs at all times.”

 

“Don’t sass me, Potter- and you, keep an eye on that one!”

 

With that, Mad-Eye vanished.

 

“I do believe he’s actually insane,” Remus remarked, thoughtfully. “But I don’t know since when.”

 

“I like to think he was born this way,” James said, nodding. “From the cradle, you know? Biting the hand that fed him.”

“Could have been poison,” Lily agreed wisely. Sirius smiled fleetingly, until remembering Regulus’ presence, and then turned to scrutinize his brother, who stayed silently observing them.

 

He didn’t trust Regulus.

 

“Let’s go inside,” James said, easily, and ruffled his hair in passage, reassuringly. Sirius followed, Remus closing off the little group as Regulus ambled in. There was the faintest buzz in the silver around his wrist, signaling the move- he supposed he’d have to get used to it, for the moment.

 

Dumbledore’s instructions as to keeping the Death Eater Boy Scouts around had been plentifold, but essentially boiled down to some unsurprising requirements: no murder, no torture, keep an eye on them, and if you could make them engage, to knock yourself out doing so. That was all fine and dandy, but Sirius now had his estranged Death Eater brother living with him for an undetermined amount of time alongside his werewolf companion, and he wasn’t deluded enough to think he was particularly apt to manage them both in his current mental state.

 

Walking Regulus into his apartment was a surreal experience. He’d never expected Regulus’ presence in anything he called home, and the expensive but artfully shitty flat he owned was third in line after the Potters’ and Hogwarts.

 

Irresistibly, he wondered what Regulus saw in it, and felt the combined urge to have cleaned up the silverware (thanks, mother), and to have wrecked the shit out of it, just as a fuck you to expectations. Instead, the flat was just as he’d left it, Sirius’ mix of sophisticated and trashy; his motorbike was parked in the sitting-room next to his Muggle record-player, and amidst the posters for various punk bands stood the moving chattering portraits of James’ parents, who waved fondly as their sons came in.

 

“Remus is using my guest room,” Sirius said, breaking the silence, “So you can have my room or the sofa.”

 

“I’ll take the sofa.”

 

“Suit yourself,” Sirius shrugged, and retrieved the leather jacket and combat boots he’d last discarded on it, alongside an essay on intersectional feminism and an empty bottle of Firewhiskey.

 

He made his way into the kitchen to avoid watching his brother watch him back, and then sagged, resting his arms on the counter. One thought at a time, Sirius- one thought at a time. Now is not the moment to crack.

 

“All right, mate?” James asked, calmly, coming to sit across him. Sirius considered him, jaw shifting, and fought between the urge to share and the urge to stay silent.

 

“We can stay on, you know,” James suggested, seriously. “Or you could go stay at ours for a while, and me and Lils could take turns staying with Moony. It won’t be you running away.”

 

“I just figured,” Sirius said, shoulders lowering as his subconscious accepted James, “That I was done with- living like this. You know? Like, when I ran off to yours-”

 

He stopped. That fucking manor, with its heavy secrets and hatred, and the whispers and shouting, the unbearable tension, the disdainful, poisonous glance that followed him throughout the building- he’d run off swearing never to return, and now it had found a way into his own house.

 

“I know,” James said, saving him the explanations. “I remember.” He cast a dark look into the sitting-room, messing his hair up subconsciously.

 

“Padfoot, I don’t want you suffocating in here. You’re going to drown in silence.”

 

“I’ll be fine,” Sirius said, attempting half a smile before James’ eyes flashed. “No, I’m serious, Prongs. Not saying it to throw you off. I’m not alone, this time around, am I? Remus will be here, and I’m not under house arrest. I’ll drop by.”

 

“If you need a break, I will pose as you. I will literally sleep in your bed,” James said, insistently. “I will wear a wig and pose as you. No, I’ll grow my hair out.”

 

“Merlin, please don’t grow your hair out,” Sirius managed, actually smiling. He wondered how different his childhood might have been if James had been at all those godawful family dinners. “Please.”

 

“Aw, babe, we’d be matching,” James grinned, tugging at a strand of Sirius’ silky hair, who winced playfully. “Wouldn’t I look good?”

 

“You’d look like a mop,” Sirius retorted, snickering. “An unusable mop.”

 

James smiled, releasing his hair, and they looked at each other for a beat, smiles fading without sullying the mood. Yeah, Sirius reflected- so his estranged brother was there polluting the atmosphere, but his adopted brother was right here by his side, and that’d be enough to face the other one, really.

 

“I’ve got him where I wanted him, now,” Sirius said, slowly, voice lowered. “But he’s the one that found his way here. And that’s either because he really has- changed, or because he’s here to play me.”

 

“I know,” James nodded, brows furrowing. “Dumbledore’s no idiot, but he could be playing a bigger game.”

 

“After Peter,” Sirius sighed, his muscles tensing, “I don’t feel inclined to forgive and forget.”

 

James winced, glance lowering, and they both turned to look at the living-room, where Regulus sat stiffly on the couch.

 

“Veritaserum is a powerful potion.”

 

“And Blacks are powerful Occlumens,” Sirius said, dully. “He has the Dark Mark on him, James.”

 

“Yeah, I saw,” James answered, regret seeping through it. “I- obviously, like. I’ve got no stance here. But he’s barely out of school, and there’s some of you in him, Pads. Dumbledore, lies and all, said he posed a threat to You-know-who. If you can, if you- talk to him, maybe.”

 

“Talking has never solved anything in our house,” Sirius said, eyes flickering away as he toyed with his wand. Oh, he’d thrown words around, all right. He’d understood the weight of them, and he’d understood they meant nothing if you couldn’t join actions to them. Regulus, forever static, chose never to act.

 

“Neither has silence,” James said, as Sirius blinked at him. “Siri, this is a war. He could have died anytime. He could still, either of you, either of us. Don’t waste your chances on silence.”

 

“We have no chances, James.”

 

“Padfoot,” James said, earnestly. “If I’d had one last shot with Mum or Dad- you know what it’s like, losing people so fast.”

 

Sirius considered him, considered the band around his wrist. He despised making amends almost as much as he hated foregoing grudges, but he loved James more than either of those things- and, he had an inkling, beneath the bitter disappointment and derision, that the same applied to the only member of his family he’d ever wanted on his side.

 

“I’ll try,” he said, finally, “But you don’t know Regulus, Prongs. He joined their lot at _sixteen_.”

 

“The war started then,” James retorted. “You’d have joined the Order at sixteen, too.”

 

He’s on the wrong side of the war, Sirius thought, but didn’t say. What use? James already knew it, and James would never quite grasp the inner workings of the upper pureblood classes. No use trying to put in words the poison that clung to your bones, the thoughts always whispering like ghosts.

 

“I’ll talk to Andromeda,” Sirius said, abruptly. Yes- of them all, surely the one person who’d understand was Andy, with her nice Muggle husband and half-blood kid, having fucked off in just as grandiose a manner as himself, but far more subtlety.

 

“I like Andromeda,” James said, dimpling, and Sirius smiled, indulgent. James very much liked Andromeda, actually, for a lot of reasons that much boiled down to shared traits between Andromeda and himself. He didn’t know if James was aware of it, but he certainly was, and, well. There was something very satisfying about having James by his side within the vestiges of the Black legacy.

 

“I noticed, somehow.”

 

“Can I interrupt?” Lily asked, from the kitchen door. Her eyes were searching, once they’d met Sirius’, but she seemed reassured, from the way she held herself- trusted her husband’s capacity to stabilize him, probably, Sirius reflected wryly.

 

“Be my guest, Evans.”

 

“Well, your br- Regulus is sitting in silence on your couch,” Lily said, as if unsure whether saying his name or recalling their familial bond would be worse. “Remus and I have been awkwardly conversing. I don’t know if we intend to interact with him, but I figure we might at least offer him tea, or something. He’s not a very good wall decoration.”

 

“How bizarre,” Sirius muttered. “Always a good wallflower.” He shrugged, relenting, when Lily pulled a face, and gestured towards the kitchen.

 

“If you want to nurse my ickle brother, knock yourself out, but he might refuse to address you.”

 

Lily frowned then flushed, almost as though she’d forgotten why exactly Regulus Black was a _persona non grata_ in the household. Her face was considerably less welcoming upon impact, and she set about making tea more mechanically.

 

“There’s a reason for the Mark, Lily,” Sirius said, relenting slightly. “He’s not a charity case.”

 

“Thanks for not letting me forget that,” Lily muttered, floating tea over to them. “Should we ask James to serve him, then? Seems like the least offense, between the mudblood, the werewolf, and the disowned scum.”

 

“Ah, but they’re classic blood traitors, the Potters,” Sirius said, grinning darkly as James stilled at the slur she’d used. “D’you know James and I are related?”

 

“Lovely,” Lily said, equally sardonic, although she’d flinched a little. “I suppose your cousins are actually married to their own siblings, then?”

 

“Not quite,” Sirius said, sarcasm heavy, “Although dearest cousin Cissy and good old Lucius are first cousins, I do believe. Which made the family seating very difficult at their wedding.”

 

“Oh, I wish we’d been invited,” Lily responded, a mockery of a smile on her face. “Or, perhaps, allowed to serve the house-elves there.”

 

“Serve the house-elves? Don’t be preposterous,” Sirius scoffed. “You might corrupt their weak little magic through your impure blood.”

 

“Enough,” James said, sharply. “Guys.”

 

They both snapped out of it, Sirius shaking his head like a wet dog.

 

“Apologies, Lils, I went overboard there.”

 

“I was goading you,” Lily disagreed, rubbing at her forehead. “Sorry. I don’t know what- I just forgot, you know. How those people think.”

 

“Trust me,” Sirius said, hand absent-mindedly coming to scratch at his wrist. “You never forget this kind of shit.”

 

He missed the exchange of looks between the other two, reflecting. Funny how the purest blood ran the dirtiest.

 

 

After they’d settled in, James and Lily took a while to get back, but Sirius absolutely refused to keep them overnight. As much as he liked to have them there, cutting himself off from the rest, he hated to shelter himself from the inevitable confrontation, and it was hard when both of them were there.

 

Perhaps if it were just James- he would actually have preferred it being just James, but he wasn’t about to kick Remus out for the night, no matter if James knew his family history best (how could he not?). Besides, apart from the slight distance, Remus was best-suited to this kind of silent tension, possessing both immense patience and a very observant character.

 

Sirius walked them out, shut them out, and found his way back up. Remus had retreated to his room, leaving them space, but he was under the misinformed impression he wanted it. Everyone seemed inclined to treat the both of them like a bomb about to go off, but they severely miscalculated the Black family dynamics. They were a contained explosion.

 

He avoided the sitting-room on his way to Remus’ room, entering without knocking to find his friend engrossed in a book, squint pronounced.

 

“We need to get you glasses, Moony,” Sirius said, fondly, as he leaned in the doorframe.

 

Remus looked up in mild surprise, pulling a face. “I harbor the delusion my eyes will hold some time yet.”

 

“Blind as a mole soon enough,” Sirius snorted. “Ironic for a werewolf.”

 

Remus smiled, a little pale as they both gauged the week that separated them from the full moon.

 

“Don’t,” Sirius said, before he could start. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll be more than capable of handling Moony. If it comes down to it I’ll knock him out beforehand. It’ll be fine.”

 

“I’ll smell a stranger,” Remus said, urgently. “Sirius. You remember-”

 

“One time, Remus,” Sirius interrupted, impatient. “Because of us, not you. It won’t happen this time.”

 

“I’m not going to jeopardize innocent lives or Order missions,” Remus said, tiredly. “I’ll make my way out for the night.”

 

“No,” Sirius said, final. “You’re staying in.”

 

“Sirius-”

 

“Remus,” Sirius said, insistently. “I need you here, okay?”

 

Remus swallowed and looked down. For a moment silence reigned, Sirius fixing him intently as the brown-haired wizard made his mind up, and then Remus sighed, resigned, looking back at him.

 

“Why did you come in?”

 

“Oh, right,” Sirius said, relaxing as his fingers drummed against the window-frame. “Listen, I wanted to go see Andromeda, but I’m not peachy keen on taking the little bastard along, especially with her little family, so I was wondering if..”

 

“I’ll watch him,” Remus nodded. “Don’t worry.”

 

“Cheers,” Sirius smiled, finishing his beat with a flourish. “Want to catch a movie or summat when I get back? I hear Star Wars is on.”

 

“You know I’m always up for Star Wars,” Remus said, smiling back. “Regulus might want to watch with us.”

 

“That is,” Sirius said, decisively, “Laughable. Right, catch you later. I’ll send my love to cousin Andy.”

 

“Shut up,” Remus grumbled, although he didn’t meet his eyes, incriminating enough, and Sirius laughed, retreating.

 

“You! You want a piece of that Black inheritance, Remus! I’m telling you, you’ll get nothing!”

 

Remus muttered something like _tosser_ , and Sirius was still smiling as he swung by the sitting-room again, whereupon his smile faded. Regulus was still sitting stiffly- were his cuffs still on?-, tea untouched by his side, and his glance was heavy.

 

“Fucking hell,” Sirius said, immediately losing his patience. “Can you stop looking like we’re about to throw you an Unforgivable? No one poisoned your drink, Regulus.”

 

His brother didn’t respond, and Sirius gritted his teeth in annoyance. He raised his wand to rid him of the cuffs, and Regulus flinched, automatically, shoulders rising.

 

For a moment they stayed frozen, Sirius paused mid-spell, Regulus hunched up, and his pulse loud in his ears, emotion building like a wave.

 

“Cuffs,” Sirius said, blankly. “Give me your cuffs.”

 

Regulus extended his hands, and Sirius wanted to cry out in frustration. Instead, he waved his wand slowly, dissipating both, as Regulus rubbed his wrists.

 

“Stay out of Remus’ room,” Sirius said, over-articulated, “Don’t even think of running off or contacting your crew. There’s food in the kitchen and books to read, and look, this is a _tee-vee remote_ , it magically entertains you, if you dare touch it. I’m going to Andromeda’s, you know, blood traitor 2.0, and I’ll be back in time for you to recite your nightly prayers to our lord and savior Salazar. _Tout compris?_ ”

 

Regulus nodded, silently, although he’d registered emotion upon hearing Andromeda’s name. Sirius inhaled longly.

 

“Also, if you so much as think of spewing some stupid bigoted shit at any of my friends, witness protection or not, I will beat your arse.”

 

He shrugged his coat on in silence, boots lacing automatically once he stepped into them, and ran his hands fondly over his bike’s handles. The poor thing had just recovered from Arthur Weasley’s over-eager interest; he could feel it aching for some freedom.

 

“Come on, love.”

 

They hit the streets, then the skies. Sirius could breathe again.

 

 

The flight to Andromeda’s took a while, as she and Teddy lived far from the city, sheltered by the suburbia of it all. Sirius always marveled at his cousin’s strong will- he’d have lost it, living in such total boredom, never anything going on, but Andromeda, rebel though she was, was a Slytherin through and through, and her own interests were worth far more than those of wizardkind at large. It was what led her to keep her little family isolated, separate from the war, and Sirius couldn’t really blame her, he supposed, though he didn’t understand her.

 

He didn’t see much of his older cousin, although she was only seven years older than him; she’d been out of Hogwarts and out of the family just about when he’d started school, and his family reunions had been forever soured by it. Still, it had meant he’d always had someone on his side, on the outside, from then on- when he’d been Sorted into Gryffindor, asking for it, he’d found her letter amongst the Howlers, offering support and light-hearted encouragement that she surely hadn’t really felt at the time.

 

He’d always wished, selfishly, that she’d waited a little longer before eloping, so that he’d have had someone on the inside to stand by him when he got into fights with the whole lot of them, but alas, Teddy Tonks had won her over before Sirius had met James, and that had been that.

 

Andromeda was a fascinating person, anyhow- strikingly similar to Bellatrix in many a way, but lacking the burning passions Bellatrix rolled with, always a cool presence instead of Bellatrix’ fiery whiplash. In that, Sirius saw more of himself in his despised older cousin, but he’d always wanted Andromeda’s cutting glance and final way of talking.

 

She would have been the perfect aristocrat, but she’d turned her very powers against the ranks that had raised her, and all she ruled over nowadays was this little house, chimney blowing calmly.

 

Sirius was one of very few people who was able to enter the barrier he could feel shivering as he passed it, and he parked his bike with the utmost lack of discretion, knowing Andromeda would have felt the intrusion. Sure enough, the back door swung open as he approached, straightening his jacket, and Teddy, surprised at his appearance, waved him in from the kitchen.

 

“Sirius! It’s been a while,” the man said, genially, coming to shake his hand. “Andromeda didn’t say you were coming.”

 

“That’s because he didn’t tell me he was,” Andromeda said, descending the stairs calmly. “Evening, Sirius.”

 

He didn’t have the time to react before a screech came from upstairs, and Nymphadora Tonks came flying down the stairs, flinging herself excitedly at his legs.

 

“I TOLD YOU I SAW HIM!”

 

“Heya, Dora,” Sirius said, smiling sharply, even as his cousin sighed. The kid’s hair had gone vivid pink with excitement.

 

“Nymphadora, you’re meant to be studying.”

 

“But I never ever study when Sirius is here,” the girl replied, pouting, eyes going blue. “Daddy?”

 

Ted shot his wife a what-can-you-do sort of look, and the dishonored Black heiress rolled her eyes at Sirius, to which he half-grinned.

“You’re a terrible influence, you rebel.”

 

“Says the original rebel,” Sirius said, winking at her daughter. “You should ask your mother about her own backstory, you know.”

 

“I know her backstory,” Nymphadora said, pulling a face. “She ran away to get _married_. That’s super boring. I don’t wanna get married, ever.”

 

“Amen to that,” Sirius replied, nodding and extending a hand to high-five.

 

“I’m assuming you have a reason for coming here,” Andromeda interrupted, heavy-lidded eyes searching as he looked up. “Beyond corrupting children.”

 

“Yeah,” Sirius said, smile fading. “It’s- family affairs.”

 

“ _Des affaires de famille dans quel genre?_ ” Andromeda asked, immediately, posture straightening. “ _Si cela concerne mes sœurs…_ ”

 

No, it wasn’t about her sisters. Sirius grimaced.

 

“ _Pas tes sœurs. Mon frère._ ”

 

His cousin’s brows raised, surprised at the mention of Regulus, and gestured to the living-room, leaving Teddy to placate an annoyed Nymphadora whilst Sirius assured her the conversation would be brief.

 

Once they were seated, the room’s door shut with a discrete click, sudden silence magically settling.

 

“ _L’Orde a chopé Regulus,_ ” Sirius began, switching languages half-way. “Doing some dumb shit, I don’t know. Anyways- he’s living at mine.”

 

“Your brother is living with you?” Andromeda repeated, incredulous. “After all this time?”

 

“I know,” Sirius said, shifting in the seat. “I- I’m not prepared to deal with this, Andromeda. I haven’t spoken to him in years. He’s a _Death Eater_. How am I supposed to trust him?”

 

“You’re not,” Andromeda said, brows heavy. “I don’t know how your Order got him, but in all likelihood he’s playing a dual role.”

 

“He’s discovered something,” Sirius said, thinking back. “And You-know-who wants him dead for it.”

 

“Ah,” Andromeda replied, adjusting. “Perhaps, then... Perhaps.”

 

“What?”

 

“You Black men,” Andromeda said, humorlessly, “Always weaker than the women.”

 

Sirius waited, brushing his hair out of his eyes, his foot tapping impatiently against the floor. _Malaisance._

“Regulus loved you,” Andromeda continued, finally, “And you loved Regulus. More than anyone else in our family. And he never found anyone else to love more, not beyond your hideous house-elf. You did.”

 

“So, what?” Sirius retorted, leaning forwards. “What does that mean?”

 

“That means your Order may be right,” Andromeda answered, considering him. “Perhaps Regulus still has some good in him.”

 

“You sound like Beedle the Bard,” Sirius snorted, skin prickling. “I can’t just trust my gut with Regulus. He’s proven me wrong too many times.”  
  
“Has he really?” Andromeda asked, eyes sharp. “Or have you been right all along?”

 

“Since when do you believe in redemption?”

 

“You Gryffindors have a knack for inspiring it,” Andromeda said, smiling grimly. “Even in the likes of us.”

 

Nymphadora was knocking insistently on the door, as Sirius’ grey eyes met hers.

 

“I know you’re trying not to give in to your baser instincts,” Andromeda sighed. “Kudos to you. But reflect on this: is your baser instinct not to resent?”

 

“Mo _ther_!”

 

“ _Tu ferais quoi, si c’était Bellatrix?_ ” Sirius asked, abrupt, as his cousin rose to open the door. She paused, and shook her head.

 

“ _Le simple fait qu’il soit là te montre bien que nos situations sont incomparables, mon cher cousin._ ”

 

And maybe she was onto something, there- Regulus was there. Unexpected, maybe unwanted. Nonetheless: present. His silver bracelet shone faintly.

 

“Yes, Nymphadora, you may come in,” Andromeda said, as the little girl cheered. Sirius managed half a smile, lost in thought though he was.

 

“Hey, did you lose another tooth? Tell me you lost it in a fight. You did? Brilliant. We’ll make a Gryffindor of you yet…”

 

“Yes! I’m going to go to Gryffindor like you, and then I’ll also beat up Death Eaters!”

 

“If you do, I’ll buy you a motorbike.”

 

Dora’s hair fluffed into a magenta cloud, to her mother’s despair, and Sirius pushed Regulus to the back of his mind, turning his focus to his sort-of-niece. Who, incidentally, was trying her hardest to style her hair like his.

 

“Leave it,” Andromeda said, with almost a smirk. “It’s the flattest we’ve gotten all month.”

 

Sirius grinned.

 

 

He left late, detained by the six-year old, and dreading some final words of wisdom upon his departure, but Andromeda merely greeted him on the way out, no final speeches to be had. It was once he was on his bike, revving the engine, that she stepped out of the house, squinting against the smoke.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“If you’d like,” Andromeda said, arms crossed, “He can come here.”

 

Sirius blinked, surprised, though not beyond measure.

 

“You think he’d come?”

 

She shrugged. “He came to yours.”

 

_Not by choice_ , he’d thought, but then she knew that already.

 

By the time he reached the apartment, it was considerably darker than when he’d left it. He shouldered the door open, by-passing all the protections with a wave of his recognized wand, and dragged the bike in, checking the lock before he headed up.

 

The lights were on when he came in, vague smell of soup emanating from his kitchen, and he rolled his eyes. Remus really couldn’t cook for shit- beyond chicken soup and anything chocolate-based, he didn’t think he’d ever seen him able to prepare a single meal.

 

Ironic, given that he’d been quite apt at Potions- although, to be fair, perhaps good potion skills didn’t correlate with culinary aptitude. He couldn’t imagine Severus Snape putting together a four-meal course without wanting to laugh. Good old Snape, still sniveling where he stood by Voldemort’s side, probably disdained even there for his lusting after Lily. What an asshole.

 

“Honey, I’m home,” Sirius called, kicking his boots off. “Please don’t tell me that’s more fucking chicken soup.”

 

“Cook your own food,” came the muffled reply, provoking both an eye-roll and a grin from the dog Animagus.

 

“I open my house to you, and I get this treatment in return?”

 

Remus’ head poked out from his room just so he could flip him off, and Sirius blew him a kiss, snorting at the eyeroll it caused.

 

“How was your cousin?” Remus asked, finally emerging from the room, and Sirius shrugged.

 

“Aight. I got kidnapped by a child again.”

 

“You know, I think you’re lying about hating kids,” Remus mused, following him into the kitchen. “They like you way too much.”

 

“Yeah, cause I’m a fucking badass,” Sirius snorted, hopping onto the counter. “Not cause I’m good with them.”

 

“Fucking badass,” Remus repeated. “This being the same guy who once drunkenly cried to me about dogs.”

 

“Invalid point, Remus. Dogs are fucking badass.”

 

“Are you neglecting my chicken soup?”

 

“Yeah, cause it sucks. If I ate it every time you made it, I’d be a chicken myself.”

 

“You are what you eat is an expression, Sirius.”

 

“Caw. Caw.”

 

“Chickens don’t even caw, they cluck.”

 

“Cluck.”

 

“I hate you, sometimes,” Remus said, amiably. Sirius laughed, surrendering as he cracked a beer open.

 

“Ta, mate.”

 

Remus smiled indulgently, which was always a great Remus expression, and Sirius lifted his legs to let him pass to where his precious chicken soup sat cooling.

“How’s babysitting gone?”

 

“Baby, sitting.” Remus responded, between gulps. “I think he’s reading something, but he hasn’t done much else.”

 

“Witty,” Sirius commended, sighing. “Well, he’s in our living-room. I can’t exactly have him around like an ugly lamp.”

 

“He isn’t that bad, as lamps go.”

 

“Remus, shut up.”

 

Remus waved a spoon at him in greeting, and Sirius downed his beer, getting to his feet with ease. All right, then.

 

Regulus, as informed, had not budged from his previous seat, although he may have shifted a little to the left, somehow. He’d been gingerly reading some stuffy old tome Remus had brought along, but upon Sirius’ entry set it down, expectant.

 

“Okay, listen,” Sirius said, striding over to squat opposite him. “This is not going to work. I’m not going to go about my daily life with you ghosting my apartment. I don’t have the energy to deal with you, because you’re an asshole and I don’t trust you. The same can probably be said in return. But we’re going to have a pleasant chat, and then you’ll stop hanging around like a Thestral. Blink twice if you heard all that.”

 

“I’m not mute,” Regulus muttered, not meeting his eyes. “I didn’t ask to be put with you.”

 

“Oh, you can talk now,” Sirius said, mock cheerily. “Newsflash: I definitely didn’t ask for you to be put here either, but I wasn’t exactly going to leave you at the mercy of some Order hardliner, was I? God knows they’d have gone insane putting up with this routine.”

 

“All I want to do,” Regulus enunciated, “Is to put an end to the Dark Lord.”

 

They paused, Sirius sneering at the term but respecting the sentiment, and Regulus looking mutinous.

 

“Well, that I’m on board with, but the Order isn’t your order. We work different. And you’re going to have to be patient.”

 

“Kreacher’s going to die,” Regulus blurted, and clammed up.

 

Sirius stared.

 

“Do not tell me you changed sides because of that miserable piece of shit.”

 

“The Dark Lord intrumentalizes even creatures devoted to Him,” Regulus said, lowly. “Their life is not of lesser worth than mine.”

 

“Oh, Salazar, you did. You actually turned coats because of _Kreacher_.”

 

“Why should I tell you?” Regulus demanded, eyes meeting his. “You’re no Order high-up. You’re not privy to this kind of information.”

 

“Not privy- wow, are you fucking with me right now?” Sirius barked, incredulous. “What the hell would you know about the Order? Dumbledore knew you’d end up here, you dumb shit. We’re not exactly stingy with sharing ways to get rid of his lordship.”

 

“I have no reason to believe you.”

 

“No, that’s fair,” Sirius said, inhaling deeply. “Yeah, course, you always liked to use logic, didn’t you? Like how it was logical to commit genocide to purge humanity of the Muggle sickness, right? I’m sure that was your own infallible logic, not in any way correlated to the old cunts that raised us.”

 

“Mother and Father,” Regulus bit out, “Disagreed with the Dark Lord, rather rapidly, although you wouldn’t know. Why do you think the defenses on Grimmauld Place are so powerful nowadays?”

 

“Gee, I don’t know, maybe I haven’t been by much,” Sirius retorted. “So, what, now I’m supposed to be happy you didn’t even need parental approval to suck Dark dick? No wonder the old bastard died.”

 

Regulus’ jaw clenched at the mention of their father’s death, satisfactorily, and Sirius took the opportunity to unclench his own fists.

 

“Don’t talk that way about him. He’s not your father.”

 

“I wish,” Sirius snorted. “Tragically, my blood’s still black as mother’s shriveled heart, so my claim to him is all in these old veins.”

 

“Changing sides doesn’t mean I ever wanted to see you again,” Regulus snapped, finally, glaring. “I’ll tell your lot what it is I know, and I’ll fight this war out, but I don’t want to see you.”

 

Heavy quiet settled through the room, Sirius nodding slowly to steady himself. Somehow, the comment was painful, more than expected. Still- what had he expected? He didn’t even know how he felt about his brother, and he’d thought, what, Regulus would grovel for forgiveness?

 

This, in itself, was more than he’d ever hoped for; a Regulus who thought for himself and didn’t come up with the wrong answers.

 

“Oh-fucking-kay,” Sirius managed, running a hand through his hair. “Merlin knows that’d be surpassing my wildest dreams.”

 

Regulus’ face contorted briefly, almost in disbelief, before he smoothed it over, eyes askance.

 

“I suppose you need to wait for Veritaserum before you believe anything I say.”

 

“Nah,” Sirius shrugged. “Just a good night’s sleep to convince myself I didn’t hallucinate all of today. The Order can test you afterwards.”

 

“So trustworthy.”

 

“Actually, I don’t trust what you say on Veritaserum,” Sirius replied, coolly. “Although you were always a less gifted Occlumens than mother would have liked.”

 

He ignored Regulus’ glare to shut his eyes and count to ten, overwhelmed by a brief bout of bad humor. He wondered what Regulus saw when he looked at him- a stranger, wearing Sirius’ skin? The sixteen-year old who’d slammed the door on him? An Order member like any other, more easily manipulated?

 

Andromeda’s words flitted through his mind as he exhaled.

 

“Cousin Andy’d love to have you over for tea, by the way,” he said, out loud. “Her and her half-blood kid.”

 

Regulus was fixing his hands, impassive, and Sirius stifled a groan. His next words were almost accidental.

 

“Funny thing, she said. That you’d never found anyone to love more than me, except Kreacher. But I don’t agree, see- I think you just never found anyone to love at all.”

 

“Don’t,” Regulus snapped, immediate, unwilling. “Don’t _you_ say that.”

 

“What, me? What bans me from saying anything about you, huh? Brotherly affection?” Sirius retorted, on the defensive.

 

“You cannot,” Regulus spit out, “Say anything about- _love_. You led father to an early grave, and drove mother out of her mind, and left our family in shambles, out of your own self-centeredness- you know _nothing_ of loving your family.”

 

“That was never my family,” Sirius laughed, incredulous. “I had to make myself one, remember that? You know, after you lot all promptly cast me out for not wanting every poor Muggle sod on this earth dead?”

 

“You _chose_ to leave,” Regulus interrupted, furious. “You _chose_ Gryffindor house. You _chose_ James Potter.”

 

“I _chose_ them because my other choice was a fucked up cesspit of hate and bigotry!” Sirius exclaimed, actually cackling now. “That was never about- are you deluded?”

 

“They would have kept you, even then,” Regulus said, fists balled. “They always wanted you more- they saw more in you even when you were locking doors than in me, even when I did nothing wrong!”

 

“So this is about _you_?” Sirius replied, losing his hysterical smile. “You thought the Dark Lord would love you, maybe?”

 

“I did things _right_ ,” Regulus answered, breaths quickening. “I didn’t _want_ to know if it was good or bad! I was going to fix what you’d fucked up!”

 

“And you never considered, maybe, you’d choose what was good over what little morsels of approval you’d get from some genocidal assholes?”

 

“Where else was I going to turn, Sirius?!” Regulus shouted, getting to his feet now. “In Slytherin house, I was the lesser Black brother whose brother was the star of _Gryffindor House_! Our parents lost their shit after you left! Everyone I _knew_ would have left me for dead if I’d changed sides, and I was _sixteen_!”

 

“I was sixteen when _I_ left, wasn’t I?”

 

“You _had somewhere to run to_!” Regulus yelled, eyes screwing shut. “You had _James Potter_ and Remus Lupin and the entirety of Gryffindor house! You had a family and a life and friends! If I ran there, all I’d get was another door slammed in my fucking face!”

 

“You could have told me, couldn’t you, if you’d wanted to-”

 

“You?” Regulus exclaimed, hands falling to his sides. “ _You_? And what would you have done, other than turn the whole of your side against me? I spent _years_ tailing after you like a lost puppy, and you came back from Hogwarts having decided I was no longer worth your goddamn time, _Sirius._ ”

 

“I came back to Hogwarts and you’d decided I was no longer your brother!” Sirius retorted, fighting off the onslaught. “I came back after a year of being ostracized and you let everyone bulldoze me into the ground without once trying to help!”

 

“I was eight! What was I supposed to do?” Regulus shouted, shoulders shaking.

 

“You were supposed to be on my side!” Sirius yelled back, furious. “And you never were after that- _never!_ ”

 

“You never _let_ me!” Regulus responded, eyes shimmering. “It’s like you forgot how things worked at home! You were _obsessed_ with proving a point, and you had somewhere to leave to- I was stuck at home for the whole year, hearing everyone hiss about you, what do you think that was like?”

 

“You think it was easier for me, the first year? On my first day, I got _thirty-eight_ Howlers! Five different people tried to poison my food!”

 

“You _had_ people on your side! I had no one!’

 

“ _All_ I wanted, when you got to Hogwarts, was for you to choose Gryffindor,” Sirius answered, chest heaving. “I would have forgiven you _everything_.”

 

“You left,” Regulus said, dully. “We got to the platform, and you saw James Potter and you left. You know who took me to the compartment? Narcissa.”

 

Sirius, for a brief instant, revisited the scene, and faltered. Regulus’ cheeks were flushed with emotion, composure erased, and something about it stirred long-buried feelings in him; an urge to protect or to apologize, not to fight.

 

Something to the same effect must have been felt on the other side, because Regulus’ dark look faded, abruptly, leaving them face to face, the absence of shouting almost paradoxally audible.

 

“And after that?” Regulus said, fight gone out of his voice. “You kept leaving. And one day you never came back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am petrified of not having written a good Regulus introduction, but it was important that their confrontation happen early on- I didn't think it plausible for Sirius to leave him be in silence after having been looking to bust him out of the Death Eaters, and Regulus himself is far more inclined to talking because, uh, he just changed sides after figuring the Horcrux thing out, which. You know.
> 
> I'll be gone for quite some time, but if people are still reading, I'll try and write as much as I can in my absence to catch up. Do please tell me what you thought of this chapter; it's a big shift from the usual quatuor in terms of dynamics!


	9. Horcruxes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-regrettable emotional outburst, Regulus Black spends his first day in the company of his brother and the half-breed he shares a flat with. It goes about as well as you'd expect. Faced with the complete break from all he'd once strived to achieve, Regulus contemplates his exit from the Death Eaters, moral intricacies, and the ever troubled relationship between himself and his brother, as the latter seemingly does his best to throw him off even further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was this my longest hiatus yet? Perhaps. It's been veritable years since I began writing LMV. Would you believe that its length now surpasses Philosopher's Stone? The Word document I have is inching closer to Chamber of Secrets. In any case, your comments on the last chapter were all genuinely insightful, and I've relied on them to try and finally push this one to the publishing page. I hope some of your hopes and questions will find their match here; Regulus is a marvel to write, but he's still very uncertain and closed off, which will naturally evolve as we go. 
> 
> These notes are getting too long; I'll let you get on to reading.

Chapter Eight: Horcruxes

**_“It is my belief…that the truth is generally preferable to lies.”-_** JK Rowling, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire3

 

\--

 

 ** _“ "_** Old, old, strange, dark. But not the locket, Master, inside it, yes. Inside it is this darkness _."_

_He’d felt as though he was descending into great darkness. As if unwilling, his mind resisted the thoughts slowly forming in his mind, taking effort to recall the things the Dark Lord had said, strange things. It was an open fact he had mastered immortality, as his terror-inducing appearance could testify to. How was anyone’s guess- and he enjoyed making veiled allusions to some great secret he had uncovered._

_It had taken time for the word to resurface_. Horcrux _._ ** _”_**

****

\--

 

He was tired, when it happened. Tired from day-long captivity and month-long anxiety, exhausted and rattled by too-long participation in games he shouldn't have been playing. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been able to breathe without checking behind him, not with the Dark Lord’s secrets unravelling slowly in his hands.

 

So tired, and scared, and hungry, and ill at ease.   
  
In the end they were feeble justifications, the lot of them, when it came to what he'd said. Stupid things, weak things, most of all childish; he hadn't even held those thoughts close to his heart for years, let alone spoken them, let alone shouted them at his estranged Order brother in his own damn flat, mere hours after coming face to face with him. Mere weeks after almost killing him. 

 

(That particular incident had joined his array of nightmare fuel.)  
  
Still, he'd done it, was left with a raw vulnerability and aimlessly swaying arms, eyes dead on Sirius', his brother pale, intent, intense, shocked.   
  
Given time, Regulus would've found something, to smooth it over, to calm it down, to fade, but Sirius never played fair or nice. Instead he seemed to fight his demons hard enough that his shoulders snapped back, and interrupted any seeds of speech with his own.  
  
"I want to trust you, Regulus."  
  
Unexpected, off topic. Regulus blinked, frowned, glared.  
  
"Back to business so soon?"  
  
"No, back to ours," Sirius bit back, rapid. "Because I'm going to answer you like I believe you, and if you use it against me it'll be my own damn fault."  
  
"I thought you heroes were all about trust," Regulus said, sardonic, and faltered when Sirius snarled, pounced forwards, making him stumble back.  
  
"Yeah, they fucking are! And of late, that gets them real far, thanks to the Death Eaters."  
  
"If their naivety-"  
  
"Naivety?! You can say decency," Sirius snapped, something ugly and unhappy burning in his eyes, vividly enough that Regulus couldn't find it in him to deride. "You remember Peter Pettigrew, Reg?”

 

“One of your friends,” Regulus snorted, steadying. “I remember. Snivelling, adoring, you loved the attenti-”

 

“He went to your side, matter of fucking fact, and I’d trusted him. And I was wrong. And I killed him. So don't moralize me with that blood on my hands, brother mine."   
  
Short sentences, contained ones. Regulus fixed his brother and saw novelty in him, beyond age and war, something deeper, new. The spat out warning was- fair. He hadn't known about Pettigrew, felt something akin to sympathy lace itself through his bones, for his murdering sibling, as if the unforgivable crime somehow merited his understanding. Hadn’t thought him capable of killing, either. Somewhere it unsettled him.  
  
"I'm- sorry."   
  
"I'm fucking sorry too, you know what? Sorry that I can't trust you. I used to. And, damn it all, I want to. But don't you dare pretend it's because I don't care." Sirius exhaled, loud, ran a hand irritably through his long hair. Regulus fixed him silently, surprised by his own comment as much as Sirius' response.   
  
The elder Black shook his head, earring glinting (that was new, since when did he have that?).   
  
"You know what, little brother? I don't trust you, and you've fucked up, and until you've- fuck, I don't know, burnt that disgusting thing off your arm using hand-carved-matches- I won't be able to look you in the eye. But-"  
  
And here he stopped, plunging the room into quiet once more. Regulus' heartbeat felt loud, his cheeks flushing as the silence stretched, in humiliated frustration.   
  
His brother was a runner, when it came down to it. He ran off to school and ran off to James', ran from his past and ran from his misdeeds, ran after impossible dreams and idealistic idiots. Most importantly, he out-ran Regulus. It wasn't cowardice, objectively, rather a sort of reckless abandon.   
  
He waited, now, for his brother to find a way to stall and run. _I don't have the time for this._ Or: _This isn't the fucking moment._ Which it wasn’t, really- he was a prisoner, in this apartment, only alive because he was of use to Dumbledore.  
  
Sirius seemed to come to a consensus with himself, and it was with a flatter tone that he looked up, hand paused mid-way to sorting out his hair.   
  
"Look, we'll have someone go pick Kreacher up, all right?"   
  
The words fell into place, slowly.  
  
It was...unexpected. Regulus hadn't felt anything as strongly as this in maybe years. His chest ached like he'd taken a punch to the ribs. He couldn't seem to regain control of his lungs.   
  
"All right," he managed, hoarsely, and couldn't look directly at Sirius. _Pick up Kreacher._

  
"Fuck that house elf," Sirius replied, curtly, and left the room. 

 

Regulus staggered, stumbled back towards the couch he’d abandoned in his hissy fit, his weight dropping into it. Whatever he’d expected, it hadn’t been this. For the first time in what felt like lifetimes, he was confronted with the unsettling possibility that perhaps his brother had _changed_ \- that what he associated with him, the heavy cast blame, didn’t quite fit the man he’d grown into.

 

His fists balled. No. As complicated as his feelings towards Sirius were, as much as he _knew_ some part of him would never stop loving his brother, he couldn’t accept that Sirius was beyond what he’d done to him. He was selfish, reckless, arrogant; his apparent moral superiority was not much beyond an ego boost, and he’d never spared a thought for the consequences his actions could have on anyone, let alone his younger brother. The epitome of Gryffindor house, any of his cousins would have said. A brute.

 

Not that Regulus had enjoyed much familial support, at Hogwarts. He’d been an outsider all his life, it seemed- it was duly accepted, of course, that _he_ was the proper Black, by opposition, but only ever when Sirius was in talks. Beyond his brother, Regulus was acknowledged, and not much besides it. He was quiet, studious, ambitious, never open enough for anyone to get a firm grip on him but not charismatic enough for it to carry an aura of intrigue.

 

Sirius despised Kreacher. He kept coming back to it. Sirius had long associated Kreacher with the pinnacle of their household, with his mother’s overbearing authority, with the eyes everywhere, with the archaic traditions; if there was one person in the household Sirius treated with more open hatred than Wallburga, it was her loyal house-elf.

 

Was bringing Kreacher to safety leverage against Regulus? Absolutely. Could this all be a ploy? Likely. Was it in character for Sirius to lower himself to such levels just to gain on him? Well… Therein lay his issue.

 

If he knew Sirius at all, his own loathing of Kreacher would have absolutely overwhelmed that kind of strategy; he’d have put his foot down to halt the initiative. And so there must have been change of some kind- either Sirius was devoted enough to his Order’s cause to put his opinions on hold, or he was accommodating enough to put Regulus’ worries first. Both scenarios were alarmingly out of character for the Sirius Regulus knew. Had known.

 

He cast a hesitant look towards the door to the kitchen, where his brother and Lupin were talking in low voices, and surveyed the room.

 

There were elements of Sirius’ deserted room in Grimmauld Place for him to pick out- the artful mess, the ugly machine parked in the entrance, the clutter of Muggle items especially, all plastic and cheap looking. The tang of cigarettes, too. But there was more to it than the spit-in-your-face teenaged rebellion that stank of hate every time Regulus found himself standing in the frame of the door. A sense of- not maturity, but less posturing. A more cultivated aesthetic, and magic comfortably interwoven. Sirius was comfortable where he was, even happy.

 

He swallowed, shoulders tight with tension. So perhaps Sirius had changed, after all. What was it to him? If anything, it only alienated them further; even the hated brother of yesteryear was more familiar than this one, someone Regulus could identify with ease. This one, he reflected, even _looked_ different. His hair was long enough to braid; his build was reminiscent of their father’s harsh elegance, he held himself with more than arrogance, even spoke in a tone Regulus couldn’t place. It only put him further on edge.

 

Had Regulus changed? He couldn’t think it, but then he supposed he must’ve. If he cast his mind back a few years, he could barely remember what he’d been like. He’d been so eager to join the Death Eaters, then, cut-out articles against his wall, sure of putting his talents to good use, to being useful to a great cause. Bellatrix and Narcissa had fussed over him proudly, praising his enthusiasm, and his parents’ attention had rested on his shoulders approvingly.

 

Freeing wizardkind from the Muggle threat, finally gaining the freedom their race deserved, under the leadership of the strongest wizard of all of history, a master of all magic… His use of Dark Arts had done little to dissuade Regulus. Mugglekind and its cruelties, surely, deserved a reminder of witchcraft, a sign that their rule was over…

 

That had changed. He’d grown disillusioned, frightened by what he saw happening, doubting his every thought. Was he a coward, unable to cope with the new world? A simpleton, the kind his schoolmates had derided for their weakness, duped by the Muggle lies? His parents had grown distant, alarmed by the rumours, and Regulus had been trapped. The things he’d seen them do- it wasn’t right, and he knew it, and he knew no one else saw it that way.

 

It was a sort of perfect dramatic irony that even the Dark Lord himself could not see the doubts and fears swirling in his head.

 

Funny how life worked. Had Lord Voldemort himself approached him in private to design him for a special mission of the utmost personal importance a few years back, he’d have fallen over himself fawning, glowed with the pride of such an honour, of being of help to his idol. Instead all he had felt as the wizard addressed him in cool, dulcet tones, his eyes an unsightly red and his face reptilian, had been cold, hard fear, and an instinctive drive to cover his thoughts from sight. Voldemort was a powerful Legilimens, but Regulus was a decent one, and the man had no reason to suspect there was anything beyond the usual fear in him.

 

His family had house-elves, the man had said, carefully, fingers running over his wand. Old magic, those creatures held. There was a place he had gone to, long ago, that held something precious, something invaluable to their cause. The assistance of a loyal servant was absolutely indispensable; he knew Regulus to have strong bonds with his serving elves.

 

 _You’d want Kreacher’s assistance_?

 

For a moment a flicker of hope had appeared, that the Dark Lord valued the magic and lives of even those creatures who were inferior to them. In retrospect he cursed his stupidity. Voldemort had seen his opening, persuaded him that Kreacher would be a valued ally. Fucking idiot that he was, he’d gone back home full of fervour, given Kreacher a long speech about what an honour it would be. And Kreacher, who by nature would have done anything for him, had been in ecstasies.

 

_Yes, Master Regulus, the greatest of honours to serve you and your masters, Master, Kreacher does not deserve such great joys, Kreacher must be punished for these grand favours…_

His mother he had assured that the Dark Lord would return Kreacher safely, that he wouldn’t ask just anyone for this kind of assistance. Of course, she’d always been more observant than any of them, through her terrible temper and vague insanity, had simply scoffed and replied that she didn’t care if the man ate him, as long as it kept him pleased.

 

Regulus shuddered, thinking back. Most likely the old elf would have accepted happily, subjected to such a fate, _for Mistress, and the young Master, yes_.

 

He had led the elf out of their house for the first time in its long life ( _Kreacher was here when the Mistress was born, yes, Kreacher will serve the Mistress until her last breaths_ ), the creature beside himself as they met Voldemort, full of overwhelmed curtseys and praises.

 

_Such an honour for Kreacher to serve the heir…_

He had seen the cold amusement in the Dark Lord’s eyes, then, and his brief bout of hope had faded. In that room, there had been no time to say anything, to warn the elf, and all he could do had been to kneel down to meet his eyes and hurriedly ask him to be good, to do his best, and to _come back home, all right?_

 

Salazar knows what would have happened if he’d not asked him to come back.

 

He had waited anxiously, at great length, and his room with its old faded posters had seemed to mock him, anxiety cutting off his air; he’d found himself refuged in Sirius’ room of all places, pressing his palms into his eyes. If he’d sent Kreacher off to his death-

 

Horrible groans had awoken him from his uncomfortable position against the wall of his brother’s room, and he’d rushed downstairs to find Kreacher collapsed on the floor, shuddering in agonies.

 

_KREACHER!_

_I have done as you asked, Master, I have come back-_

_Kreacher, what on Earth has happened to you?_

It had taken feverish effort to heal the house-elf from his misery, and even more effort to get him to coherently recount his tale, which Regulus had listened to with increasing horror.

 

They had gone to a cave somewhere on the dark coasts of the seashore, through unlit tunnels; there had been blood to let, and then an awful, awful island where murmurs of dead hands carried their ship through to a basin. There Voldemort had made Kreacher drink a potion, filling his mind with nightmarish delusions, his body with intense pains, and placed a locket in the basin as Kreacher lay moaning on by his feet, begging for forgiveness.

 

Voldemort had left him to die.

 

_The thirst, Master, the thirst, Kreacher could not drink, but Kreacher knew he must not drink until he had finished his task, yes, and Master had said to come home…_

From there on a single-minded obsession had driven him: the locket. Gone were his last tendrils of devotion, replaced by a burning desire to destroy whatever Voldemort had taken such great pains to hide.

 

_Describe it to me, Kreacher._

_A locket of heavy gold, Master, yes, very beautiful, with an S like a snake, in glittering green stones… An old object, Master, and magical, oh yes, Kreacher could tell, a pureblood magic…_

The locket of Salazar Slytherin, Regulus had deduced, combing through their many books on heirlooms. Last known owner: Hepzibah Smith, who had died mere days after a visit from a young Tom Riddle.

 

_What kind of magic, Kreacher?_

_No, Master, Kreacher cannot-_

_Kreacher, please._

_Old, old, strange, dark. But not the locket, Master, inside it, yes. Inside it is this darkness._

He’d felt as though he was descending into great darkness. As if unwilling, his mind resisted the thoughts slowly forming in his mind, taking effort to recall the things the Dark Lord had said, strange things. It was an open fact he had mastered immortality, as his terror-inducing appearance could testify to. How was anyone’s guess- and he enjoyed making veiled allusions to some great secret he had uncovered.

 

It had taken time for the word to resurface. _Horcrux._

Piece by piece he had remembered times suddenly imbued with awful clarity, off-hand comments that now traced a darker story.

 

“My Lord, perhaps it is unwise for you to challenge Dumbledore in this way,” Lucius had suggested, cautiously, his long silver hair framing his face. “He has long dreamed of confrontation, and in this instance has the high ground-”

 

“Do you doubt my prowess, Lucius?” Voldemort had rasped, amused. Bellatrix had laughed, tossing her head back proudly as Lucius flinched angrily; Regulus had looked down before she singled him out as her next target.

 

“No, my Lord.”

 

“Fear not, my friend. Death has no hold over me. Always there is some part of me hidden from its clutches, where no man can find it.”

 

It had seemed like a normal statement, but Regulus remembered finding something off in his tone, more factual than the comment warranted. Now it was this memory in particular than haunted him.

 

Horcrux. He had needed to scourge the worst of places to find anything; _Magick Moste Evile_ had only to say that it would not speak of it. Then the name of Herpo the Foul had appeared, and finally led him to _Secrets of the Darkest Art_. Reading through it had made him retch; even his cousins, for once, had remarked that he looked _sicker than usual._

Horcrux. A certainty. Faced with the prospect, he felt lost. How many could Voldemort have made, to shrivel his soul thus? He had slaughtered what felt like an endless number- if each of them… With every detail he found, the absence of knowledge on his end seemed to increase tenfold. Of Horcruxes nothing was said- of destroying them even less.

 

So be it, then. His plan had been simple. Kreacher would take him back. He would drink the potion, and the house-elf would flee with the locket, leaving him to suffer his fate. It was a suicide mission, but he had nothing left to live for- he was trapped in the Death Eaters, had no one to stay alive for, had one shot at disarming the Dark Lord.

 

The note he had penned rested in his drawer still.

_To the Dark Lord,_

_I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know that it was I who discovered your secret. I have stolen the real Horcrux and intend to destroy it as soon as I can. I face death in the hope that when you meet your match you will be mortal once more._

 

_R.A.B_

It had all changed the day he was called in for an attack on an Order safehouse. Word was Dumbledore would be there; that it would be a test of character for young Death Eaters, that there was to be a trial of some kind. There was no way of foregoing the mission without making Voldemort suspicions, and he had gone along dutifully only to discover the trial was his brothers’.

 

He hadn’t know then what it had been for- guessed now that it was about Pettigrew. In that chaos of violence and magic, though, he had come closer to the Order than he’d ever been, and the sight had rattled him. They wore no capes and masks and marks- they looked like ordinary people, under the fierce way they fought.

 

He had stalked Sirius easily, a sudden reckless anger driving him to follow his brother as he whirled through the room wrecking havoc. If this was to be their final confrontation, Regulus would make it worthwhile- would have, had it not been for his brother’s most powerful protection. His friends had escaped with Sirius in tow, and Remus Lupin, the half-breed, had saved Regulus’ life almost at the cost of his own.

 

_It would be very easy for you to die right now. But that's not how we work in the Order, and Sirius wouldn't want you dead. Do you understand that? The brother you tried to murder would rather die than kill you, Regulus._

The event had thrown him off. Where he’d been dead set on going after the locket as soon as the fight was over, hesitation had bloomed somewhere in him, clouding his thoughts.

 

At best he would destroy one Horcrux. There was no one he knew to share the knowledge with, to continue his work- no one he could trust. He’d forgotten that he was in that position merely because he was on the wrong side of the war.

 

The Order of the Phoenix; Dumbledore’s army. They could not have known of the Horcruxes- if they had, surely they would have made progress by now, strength in numbers that Regulus didn’t have, stranded as he was. Communicating what he’d found out to them would do far more harm to Voldemort than destroying his lone Horcrux.

 

Once he’d acknowledged the truth of it, he struggled first with the personal challenge of changing sides after all the years of bitter opposition. A vast majority of those in the Order were people he’d known if vaguely; Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, Ravenclaws, in short people who had never offered him anything but trouble and scorn. And their views did not align with his- though he supposed he didn’t know what his views were, anymore.

 

He’d been prepared to die to oppose Voldemort, though. Allying with the Order wouldn’t make his goal waver.

 

From there on it was the practical that had caused him trouble. How to contact the Order without alerting the Death Eaters? How to convince them it wasn’t a trap, to dissuade them from killing him on sight as the Death Eaters would have done? He’d resorted to convoluted plans and asking Kreacher desperately to aid him on scouting the places he couldn’t access.

 

All that, and finally the Order had erupted into the room he’d tipped them off about, and hours later he’d stood in a holding room with his old Headmaster surveying him intently.

 

“Mr. Black,” Dumbledore had said, eyes piercing, voice calm. “I am very glad to see you again.”

 

Regulus had swallowed and tugged his sleeve down. His voice had come out hoarse. “I need to tell the Order something.”

 

“Yes,” Dumbledore had nodded, thoughtfully. “Yes, I believe you do.”

 

He hadn’t gone into this thinking of his brother, but as he looked back on his choices, he reluctantly suspected he’d been involved nonetheless, in the back of his mind, leading the way back towards him.

 

The door to the kitchen opened, making him jump slightly, and Lupin gave him a reassuring smile.

 

“I’m heading to bed. There are blankets under the coffee table.”

 

Regulus stared at him blankly, remembering the last time they’d been face to face. The calm, polite, sweater-wearing man in front of him was a far cry from the tranquil fury he’d been confronted with.

 

“Good night, Regulus,” Lupin said, quietly, and heading down into the hall, out of sight. He sat still as a statue for a beat, waiting for the hushed voices to die down, relaxed fractionally. His eyes darted to the coffee table, and he rose hesitantly to grab a blanket, shaking it unfolded.

 

He had no access to his wand, looked around helplessly as he attempted to understand how to put the lights out. Muggles used some kind of power for lighting, but he had no knowledge of it, and nothing in the room seemed strong enough to operate such a force.

 

He lay back down warily. He’d just have to ignore the lights.

 

In the street, Muggle vehicles roared by noisily; Regulus screwed his eyes shut uncomfortably and waited for sleep to come.

 

\--

 

He awoke completely disorientated sometime in the early morning, panicked at the foreign residence, scrambling for a wand he couldn’t find and with half a wish to call for Kreacher to alert his mother, the shout dying in his throat as he laid eyes upon the motorized vehicle.

 

His pulse calmed, loud against his ears, as he gripped the couch.

 

Fuck, all right. The silver around his wrist glinted.

 

Head hurting, he raised himself from the couch and stood aimlessly in the center of the room. His robes were crumpled after three days without a change of clothes, his mouth tasted bitter, and he was starving. He glanced distrustfully towards the kitchen.

 

Regulus was reluctant to exit the perimeter he’d claimed for himself. There were a variety of reasons behind this attitude: a dislike of relying on Sirius’ amenities, a revulsion towards all the Muggle produce, an anxiety related to confronting either his brother or any of his friends. There was also the fear of actually doing something that angered someone- he’d always hated getting in trouble, and getting in trouble with the Order would pretty much sign his death warrant.

 

His stomach pulled plaintively, and he slowly crept his way towards the kitchen, eyes skittering nervously about. He’d lost most of his mannerisms over the course of the war, but he retained his childhood mistrust; anything his brother had claimed ownership over counted double in his little black book.

 

The kitchen door opened after he’d barely touched it, and he stayed frozen as it swung open to reveal his brother sitting at the counter staring into nothingness, the morning light pale around him. Sirius looked up, alert, stiffened upon sighting him. There was a bottle of Firewhiskey in his hand; Regulus observed it judgmentally, biting his tongue so as not to say the instinctive snide comment that came to mind.

 

Sirius, obviously, could tell exactly what he’d have liked to say, and gave him a sneer.

 

“Care for a bottle?”

 

Regulus shook his head mutely, hovered in the doorframe uncertainly.

 

With a full night’s sleep behind him, their argument the previous night seemed somewhat surreal, like he couldn’t possibly have said all those things. Yet they’d been said, on both sides. So Sirius claimed to love him, and Sirius had accepted most of his furious reproaches, and Sirius had made peace offerings. He was ill equipped to process it, to confront this with what he thought of his brother, and thus didn’t know how to handle him face to face.

 

There were in him conflicting urges to hang back and think, to fall back into habit and snap, to… He had to settle for a cease-fire until he could safely make a choice.

 

His silent hovering obviously exasperated his brother, who set the bottle down with a loud sigh. “Merlin’s socks, take a seat, I’m not going to bite.”

 

Sirius looked tired, Regulus considered, as he sat, fingers fiddling with his sleeves. There were pronounced circles under his eyes, strands of his hair fell loose of his hastily braided hair, and his mouth was set in a harsh line, not too distant in appearance if not in meaning from the sulky pout of a younger version of him.

 

He tried to remember how much of it he’d seen on him the previous day, and how much was as a result of Regulus himself. The war must have been taking a heavier toll on the Order- their losses more profound, their cause more hopeless. And then there was the ordeal with Pettigrew.

 

A brief, urgent guilt washed over him as his brother’s stormy eyes looked to the window, wild thoughts of having followed him into Gryffindor House all those years ago flashing through his mind, painting a utopian picture that he rapidly dismissed. No- even if you took Sirius’ stance on those years, their situation would have been far from rosy.

 

Still. It was- jarring, to see his brother with a kind of bone-deep misery. Sirius in his last years home had not been happy, had made that perfectly known, but he’d been burning with passion, righteous fury and malicious joy to self-pitying brooding. Regulus had never known him resigned. Perhaps it frightened him, a little.

 

“When will Dumbledore see me again?”

 

Sirius snapped to attention, shaking his head rather like a wet dog would before he took in what he’d said, pianist fingers tapping absently against his bottle.

 

“Dunno. He made it sound like we’d all have you lot around for a while, but that doesn’t mean he won’t see you in the meantime- and besides you’re a special case.”

 

“I need to see him soon,” Regulus managed, staring down at his hands. “If the Dark Lord discovers Kreacher is still alive-”

 

“I sent Dumbledore notice about that piece of shit last night,” Sirius interrupted, lip curling. “He said he’d take care of it. You can usually count on Dumbledore’s word, when it’s in the Order’s best interests.”

The last few words were said with vitriol; Regulus observed him curiously. He’d assumed all of their side worshipped the earth Dumbledore walked upon. Voldemort himself considered the man his only true rival.

 

They sat in less tense silence for a moment, a howling siren making Regulus wince.

 

“You’re not used to Muggle London, are you?” Sirius noted, wry. “Less quiet without the enchantments.” His smile faded. “Fucking coffin of a house.”

 

“Considering everyone but Mother is dead or in exile, yes,” Regulus muttered. Predictably, his brother barked out a laugh at that, which would have served to sour Regulus’ mood further had it not led to him giving him a once-over and narrow his eyes.

 

“ _Rowena_ , how long have you been wearing those dirty robes?”

 

He flattened them self-consciously. “A couple of days, no thanks to your side.”

 

“We’re not running a bloody charity shop, are we,” Sirius scowled, standing up nonetheless. “Ought to have some stuff that fits you somewhere- good idea, too, to put you in Muggle clothes, makes you less obvious…”

 

“I’m not wearing _their_ clothes,” Regulus protested. “I’ll just wash my robes.”

 

“Listen, you little shit, this is part of your mandated facho rehab. What’re they going to do, eat you?”

 

“I,” Regulus began, clammed up, torn between arguing that he was already doing enough of a trust fall as it was and telling himself that after all of his crisis of faith perhaps he owed the other side an open mind. (Right, like open minds were possible when you’d been raised a Black.) Sirius was springing all of these choices on him too fast; he barely had the room to breathe.

 

“It’s just _clothes_.”

 

“ _All right_!”

 

Sirius rolled his eyes very hard, unsympathetically. Regulus’ stomach chose that moment to grumble.

 

“Don’t tell me,” Sirius said, flatly. “You haven’t eaten in a week because you’ve been on a moral hunger strike.”

 

Regulus sighed. His head hurt.

 

“Look, I’m not going to conjure you a five course meal because you’re scared of normal food, and there’s no forced labour here for you to take advantage of, so you’ll have to go with toast or cereal.”

He cast a dubious eye towards the garish cereal box and its eerily grinning mascot. “I’ll make some toast.”

 

“In the toaster it goes,” Sirius said, with a sudden smile. “Go’n. Pop the bread in.”

 

“In- here?”

 

“Now press down on the side and wait.”

 

Regulus examined the device warily, eyes following the cord attached to it to a hole in the wall. So the power came from the walls?

 

“You really think what you know is going to change things in this war?”

 

He found Sirius fixing him with an almost wistful expression, swallowed.

 

“I don’t know if it’ll change things in this war. I know that it’ll change things for the Dark Lord, if your side manages to make something of it.”

 

Sirius looked at him intently. “You really believe that.”

 

“I do.”

 

The elder Black sighed, glancing aside. “Then I hope your faith in us is justified.”

 

In truth, Regulus knew very little about the Order of the Phoenix. The Death Eaters were a closed-off group, removed from the Muggle world and hanging like a shadow over the wizarding one- their interactions with the Order were never face-to-face but individual attacks. Through their eyes, the Order was a haggard group of fools, clutching to some weak-minded beliefs, and a thorn in their side that was being dealt with efficiently. Some members were known individually, some were markedly a nuisance to Voldemort, but in general they seemed a far cry from the well-oiled machine that the Death Eaters were- and with good reason. They were the losing side.

 

Never in his life had he pictured himself living in their circles. The idea was absurd- first because their views were opposed, later because they were quite simply the enemy, and the fools of the war. Now… Now he supposed he’d see for himself.

 

A novel thought: perhaps there was a new path to walk.

 

A loud, nearby bang startled him out of silence and away from the shelf, and he flung himself as far as he could, heartbeat gone awry as he scanned the room frantically, eventually landing on Sirius, who was choking on his cereal- not, he realized, with fear, but with laughter.

 

His panic dwindled. There was no sign of a cloaked intruder, or of any disruption bar his brother’s grating laughter.

 

“That was the toaster,” Sirius snorted, gasping for breath. “It- your toast is ready.”

 

Regulus stared, turned slowly to see his bread had emerged toasted from the contraption. It took another beat for his shoulders to rise defensively, embarrassed resentment bringing a flush to his cheeks.

 

He stayed resolutely silent throughout his cautious retrieval of the toast, which did nothing to lessen the volume of Sirius’ gleeful snickering. Well, fine, if he was going to be an immature prick- Regulus wouldn’t let it get to him, and certainly did not butter his toast with more violence than was strictly necessary.

 

His brother sobered once breakfast had ended, floating the dishes away lazily, but the haunted look in his eyes had faded, not that Regulus took much notice of it. As he stretched his shirt rode up to reveal glimpses of twirling ink on his back; then he sighed and dropped his arms.

 

“C’mon, let’s get you some clothes.”

 

Sirius’ room looked nothing like its deserted equivalent.

 

There were no posters here, fixed or magical, only a handful of scattered photographs on the dresser; neon lights spelling curse words placed carefully above his mirror, and a neutral looking colour-scheme punctuated by old newspapers and glossy magazines. A lot of documents were strewn about on his bed, and Dark Arts protections lay in various spots as if neglected. On a bookcase, an eclectic collection of Hogwarts schoolbooks, an old broomstick, various knickknacks that had to be inside jokes.

 

A familiar yet forgotten hum came from somewhere near the ceiling- without thinking, Regulus reached his arm towards it, found his fingers closing around the recognizable shape of a Snitch; old Seeker’s reflex.

 

He looked down at the golden orb almost wonderingly. Quidditch seemed a lifetime away, and yet it had been one of the few real pleasures of his life so far. Flying as Seeker had made him feel- free, like he could focus on the elusive Snitch alone, everything else rendered unimportant. And he’d been valued, in the team, he’d been a good Seeker- though Gryffindor had won the Cup in three of his first years on the team, Slytherin had won in his last year, a single highlight amidst the incoming gloom.

 

Games when Sirius had been in school still had always been especially intense, his brother commentating with a total lack of decorum and no shame where his glaring bias was concerned. Flying against James Potter- _that_ had been something. The golden champion of Gryffindor House, always cheered on loudly from a mix of houses, was objectively a pleasure to see on the field, subjectively someone Regulus wanted to see hit over the head by a particularly nasty Bludger.

 

It had happened, once most notably, in Regulus’ first year on the team, halfway through their final match, as Sirius chattered on happily.

 

“And Micheal passes to Zabini, whose hair seems, oh, I beg your pardon, just a tad out of place, you might want to have that checked- no, Professor, of course not, I’ll be right on- and intercepted by Potter, what an interception, look at Micheal go- I saw that wink, you charming bastard- Potter dodges a rather lousy hit from Slytherin Beater, don’t look at me like that, Parkinson, you know it’s- HEY, WHAT THE FUCK?”

 

Regulus had snapped his eyes away from the Snitch in time to see Potter scramble for a hold on his broom, the Bludger he’d dodged making a vicious comeback, apparently unprompted as the Beaters looked on in confusion.

 

“Potter under _attack_ from the Bludger in an _evident act of sabotage-_ ”

 

The stands had grumbled tensely, Slytherins cheering as the Gryffindor dropped the Quaffle, pulling off a neat loop to shake the Bludger, but it wasn’t leaving him, and most of the players barely moved as they stared at the altercation-

 

“No one fucking notices Micheal scoring because there are _bigger things at stake_ , will someone _stop that bloody Bludger_ , James, get _out-_ ”

 

Flashes from the Professor’s Lodge had missed the ball by an inch, and James was doing admirable broomwork but the Bludger seemed possessed; Regulus eyes caught on the red hair of a Mudblood his brother’s age as she started fiercely towards the Slytherin stands. Whistle blowing from Madam Hooch had reached their ears; Wood attempted to beat the Bludger away to no avail, and the microphone had clearly dropped because Sirius’ voice was muffled- and then suddenly Potter had dived just an instant too late, and he’d gone flying, clean off his broom, shrieks from the stands as he fell.

 

Miraculously the Gryffindor seeker had dived just in time to intercept his crash-landing, muting the blow, and Potter had raised a feeble hand to signify his good health as the arena raised a sigh of relief, the Bludger quite suddenly ceasing its attacks.

 

The microphone had croaked back to life as Potter got dragged off to the infirmary, Gryffindor team seething as he went.

 

“Of course, Professor, back to civilities, and as the match resumes, boys and girls, let’s not let the mood be dampened by the horrible foul play- yes, yes, Professor, all right! As I was saying, let’s get on with some great sportsmanship, and by the by, Snivellus, you greasy cunt, just you w-”

 

They’d tied on the Quidditch Cup, in a dreary mood. Potter had erupted into the Great Hall the next morning to great applause, like a hero off the battlefield, his bows and waving only disrupted by Sirius launching himself at him like a Bludger himself. Regulus had quietly observed Severus Snape’s empty seat and felt sympathy for the older student. Sometimes he’d have liked his guts.

“Here,” Sirius said, in the present, breaking his bubble. “And let go the Snitch, it’s not yours.”

 

He held a green jumper, a tight black shirt, and slightly ripped Muggle trousers. Regulus grimaced in distaste.

 

“It’s the least offensive I have,” Sirius snapped, reading his mind impatiently. “Take it.”

 

He changed as his brother stormed out muttering about needing a smoke, eyeing the Snitch wistfully as he did so. He’d lost himself in comfortable memories, there, where everything had been certain, predictable. Nowadays everything seemed fragile, instantly destroyable. His discarded robes made for a sad picture, heightened the kind of painful nostalgia playing through his thoughts. Fitting into his new clothes was an awkward process. They felt nothing like dress robes.

 

The Regulus Black in the mirror could have walked by his own mother unrecognized. He looked dishevelled, roughed-up, a little feverish from the exhaustion, and his scrupulously maintained, elegant wardrobe had been replaced by an awful, large green sweater several sizes too big and disturbingly tight blue trousers.  In short, more like some kind of Muggle delinquent than anything he was used to.  
  
"Perfect. You look the height of Muggle fashion."   
  
Not what he was used to representing, but the thought struck him that assuming such an identity was an invaluable resistance to Death Eater detection. As of now he didn't think Voldemort's arrogance would have let him suspect the truth, and so the lookouts would be aiming to rescue him from Order captivity if only to torture information back out of him, but the peril was real nonetheless.   
  
"Why don't all of you wear Muggle clothes?"  
  
"Beg your pardon?"  
  
"To blend in with them," Regulus clarified, picking at his sweater. "Why doesn't the whole Order wear them?"  
  
Sirius stared. "We don't wear them to blend in. I just like Muggle fashion. The Order dresses as it pleases."  
  
Right. His headache returned full force. If he had overestimated this group- if they were no less capable of solving the puzzle...   
  
It did no good to think like that.   
  
Loud clattering followed by virulent cursing came abruptly from down the hall; Sirius' eyes lit up as he wandered back out of the room, smile playing on his lips. "That'll be our resident morning person."   
  
The half-breed. Perhaps the sun affected him negatively due to his condition- in any case his brother seemed fondly entertained, leaving him behind as he skirted into the guest room, voice muffled by the door as he made some kind of witty comment.   
  
At a loss, Regulus headed back to his couch, and resumed his half-hearted lecture of _A History of Great Witches and Wizards_. He couldn't focus particularly well on the book, but he had an inkling letting his focus wane would lead him back into an existential meltdown.   
  
Eventually the words began to hold his attention, and he settled down somewhat, keeping his attention on the exploits of this and that rather than the faded banter from two rooms away.   
  
One Japanese witch had created a particularly powerful locating spell rarely used in polite society due to the lack of freedoms it left the target- he gazed pensively at the circlet around his wrist. He had no doubts it was powerful magic, wondered now how it could be removed, if they intended to do so at all. Hypothetically, he might be spending whatever was left of his life constantly traceable by Sirius, but there were several other intrigues that came to mind.

 

Just how much of his movements did his brother know of? How would it make itself known if he attempted escape? And what of when one of them died? Would the magic fade, or would the survivor be alerted by the movements of… Furthermore, what of the case of one of them coming back as a ghost? All of these improvised spells frustrated him. The war was rife with them, and they were created too rapidly to be examined properly.

 

His contemplation of the aforementioned Haruka’s further exploits (namely discovering a potion which, upon drinking, had reanimated the drinker long enough for him to disclose the name of his murderer) was interrupted the second time not by his thoughts but by the intrusion into the apartment of a silver phoenix, glittering and elegant as it turned its head toward him.

 

“The Order wishes to have Mr. Black escorted to its premises this evening. Address will be disclosed in due time.”

 

Regulus hung back in discomfort as the magical creature seemed to gaze straight into him before bowing its head and vanishing.

 

It took him a moment to process the incident. He didn’t think- couldn’t remember- he’d ever been so close to a corporeal Patronus, at least not in the past decade. The Death Eaters weren’t particularly encouraged to use them, as they frightened away the Dementors Voldemort took pleasure in utilizing, as well as a number of their more unsavoury allies. This was a different kind of powerful magic, a symbolic white to a darker black.

 

He rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly.

 

“Sirius?”

 

No response. Louder, then. “ _Sirius_?”

 

Both his brother and Lupin appeared into the room as if summoned, both with their wands at hand.

 

“Dumbledore just sent in a Patronus,” Regulus said, before anyone could start cussing him out for calling them over. “He wants you to escort me to the Order tonight. Address undisclosed as of yet.”

 

The two Order members glanced at one another, brows rising. He looked away.

 

“That’s remarkably early,” Lupin said eventually, noncommittal. “I suppose they didn’t precise who should escort you?”

 

He shook his head.

 

“We’ll both go,” Sirius decided, storing his wand into his coat. “Matter of fact I’m going to go tell James about it, have the Potters keep an eye out.”

 

Lupin nodded, and Regulus glanced towards the fireplace, which seemed remarkably non-prepared for any kind of connection. He shouldn’t have been surprised when Sirius merely turned his back to the room and slipped something small out of his pocket. It took a matter of seconds for Potter’s voice to ring into the silent room.

 

“Hullo?”

 

Sirius audibly grinned. “Morning, sleeping beauty- and Evans, you’re there too.”

 

“Can’t a woman spend _one morning_ with her husband?”

 

“Oh, well, if you were _spending the morning_ …”

 

“Bugger off, Padfoot.”

 

Perhaps he needn’t have worried about change so much, Regulus mused sardonically. His opinion of Sirius’ friends certainly hadn’t changed.

 

“Back to the topic at hand, Siri, loving the angle here.”

 

“Brings out my best side.”

 

“That would be your backside.”

 

“Flatterer.”

 

Lupin coughed, amused, and Sirius flipped him a lazy V-sign.

 

“James, listen, Dumbledore’s asked to see the resident twot and Moony and I are brining him in sometime this afternoon; if you and the wifey would be so lovely as to cast an eye around…”

 

“Yeah, course, mate,” Potter’s voice said, more serious, shuffling noises in the background. “So soon, huh?”

 

Sirius grunted in agreement, casting a quick look back before moving into the hallway.

 

“As a matter of fact…”

 

His voice trailing off as he went, the room was plunged once more into silence. Regulus eyed Lupin warily as the older man gazed absently out of the window, faint frown on his face.

 

He looked sickly, something Regulus had registered the past night- dark bags under his eyes, faintly trembling hands, hollow cheeks. The war taking its toll or something else? He cast his mind back to long memorized star movements, by-passed constellations. As he’d suspected- the next full moon awaited them in three days. Given the open secret of Lupin’s status, he suspected his appearance had more than fatigue to thank.

 

How Sirius could share his _apartment_ with a werewolf was honestly beyond him. Even taking into account his preposterous views, the fact remained that a _werewolf_ was an extremely dangerous beast, class XXXXX in the Ministry’s books. What did Sirius do every full moon? Beat him over the head with a club and lock him in a safe?

 

It was hard to examine the mild-mannered Lupin turning into some howling beast, but then there had been glimpses of that when he’d thrown Regulus into a wall.

 

Sirius’ laughter caught both of their attention, bright and loud, and Regulus scowled automatically, turning his eyes away. James fucking Potter.

 

A soft sound made him glance back at the half-breed, who was contemplating him with an amused expression.

 

“The Potter-Black conundrum,” Lupin stated, softly. “A common human experience.”

 

 _I don’t have anything in common with anyone here but him,_ Regulus wanted to say. _And all we share is blood._ He was unwilling to engage in conversation, however, too weary in all senses of the word to pick a fight with someone he didn’t know and whose mercy he relied upon. Retorting impolitely had never been his style, anyways.

 

“Right, well, that’s sorted,” Sirius stated, re-entering the room as he toyed with a bracelet. “Can we go grab lunch or summat?”

“Shouldn’t we wait around in case Dumbledore contacts us again?” Lupin asked, sensibly. “Besides that, we can’t leave your brot- Regulus here alone.”

 

“The last thing I want to do right now is stay confined inside,” Sirius muttered, kicking at the floor impatiently before flinging his hands up. “Fine! Let’s all have a jolly nice tea together, shall we?”

 

“You can head out,” Lupin interjected, with a patient eyeroll. “I don’t mind staying in. I need a nap, actually.”

 

Sirius relented in his foul mood, blinking with puppy eyes at the scruffier of the two.

 

“You sure? You already stayed in yesterday-”

 

“I _really_ need a nap,” Lupin repeated, flatly. “Actually- if you could head to St-Mungos and go pick some things up…”

 

“Course,” Sirius nodded, mouth set in a thin line. “The usual?”

 

“Maybe some Muggle aspirins too, if you’ve the time.”

 

“All the time in the world, Moony.”

 

Lupin nodded tiredly, made to grab for his wand. “I’ve got some money on me, but the key to my safe is somew-”

 

Sirius cuffed him round the head. “Don’t be a twat, Lupin. I’m paying.”

 

“ _No_ ,” Lupin snapped, decisively. “I already pay a ridiculously low cost for living in your damn apartment. You’re not going to pay my medical bills like some bloody invalid.”

 

“I’m not paying your bills like some bloody invalid,” Sirius retorted. “It’s less of a hassle for me than having to get to the bank, and ‘sides it’s essentially for me, too, given that without the meds your time of the month would get a little messy.”

 

“No, Sirius, it’s that or I’ll…”

 

“What, refuse to take them? Idiot. You’re house-sitting for me anyways.”

 

Lupin cast him an aggravated look before glancing back, clearly uncomfortable having a dispute in front of Regulus.

 

“You can’t do this every month.”

 

“All right, then,” Sirius shrugged, grabbing a scrap of paper and scribbling a I.O.U. on it before sticking it to Lupin’s forehead. “Clear as daylight, mate, and if you don’t make it up to me I’ll be really pissed.”

“Sirius,” Lupin groaned, softened nonetheless, as his brother winked and shrugged his coat on. “This isn’t- _Sirius_.”

 

“Ta, love, I’ll catch you later, yeah? Lemme know if anything happens, you know how to find me.”

 

Lupin merely sighed and nodded, and Sirius paused mid-boot lacing to give Regulus a curt nod before vanishing out of sight into the hall.

 

The door slammed shut behind him.

 

“I actually could use a nap,” Lupin said, finally. “Please don’t make me have to wake up from one to find you trying to escape and/or kill me and/or steal Order documents and/or contact your lot. I’ve a temper.”

 

Regulus shook his head mutely, and the werewolf kind of made a weird noise before seeming to give up and walking out, a tell-tale thump moments later showing he’d relocated to his bed.

 

 

By the time Sirius re-entered his flat, Regulus had forsaken his lecture to have a cautious look around. He wasn’t a naturally curious person, and he knew snooping was liable to getting him far more worries than he needed or wanted, so he really hadn’t gone anywhere he shouldn’t have, just glanced around to find his bearings.

 

Sirius’ flat was decently sized for a single occupant, he supposed; nowhere near the stature of Grimmauld Place, say, but with a number of bedrooms, a sizable kitchen, bathrooms and the sizable living-room. He’d not the faintest idea where it was situated; there were too many enchantments for him to bypass, and casting an eye outside as he’d been doing via the window for a while simply overwhelmed him with Muggle day-life.

 

He’d very rarely had the chance to observe Muggles going about their daily lives. Sirius had been the one whose window had given upon the street; they never went into Grimmauld Street itself, only used the Floo Network or Portkeys in and out, for convenience. Then Hogwarts had kept him secluded, and since then he’d only ever come face to face with Muggles on the rare occasion he was needed for some kind of attack on them, during which time they seemed more like terrified animals than people.

 

The only Muggles he’d ever seen up close were the posters frozen in Sirius’ room, with their suggestive outfits and sultry smiles. Somehow he questioned their value in terms of cultural resonance.

 

The sound of barriers lowering and locks opening stopped his contemplation, and he waited for the door to open before relaxing. He needed to think of a defence strategy- he had no wand and nothing of use in case the Death Eaters found him. There were knives in the kitchen, surely; with the element of surprise he might at least disarm one.

 

“What’re you doing by the window?”

 

Regulus wavered. Saying nothing would incriminate him as wanting to escape or trying to communicate with the outside; saying the truth would make Sirius assume things of him that simply were not true.

 

“Looking outside.”

 

For a moment his brother seemed about to comment, but he shook his head and dropped the subject, returning to locking the door behind him.

 

“Where’s Remus?” was Sirius’ next inquiry, upon entering the room. Regulus pointed towards his room; Sirius took it as an opportunity to leave once more, pockets bulging with boxes he’d clearly shrunk (of course, Sirius Black didn’t need shopping bags).

 

Eventually both reappeared, Lupin looking pale but more alive than he had earlier, Sirius shoving his hands in his pockets and kicking back against the wall.

 

“Right, Regulus. We’ve got all our facts sorted, so it’s about time to go. Course you can’t see where we’re going, so we’re going by Portkey, and you’re being blindfolded.”

 

He couldn’t really do anything but nod a tad cynically, though his stomach had flipped at the mention of a Portkey.

 

“Do I need cuffs again, or have I been spared those?”

 

“You’ve got enough cuffing, I’d reckon,” Sirius replied, lip curling as his eyes flickered between the circlet and to where the sweater obscured his other forearm. It didn’t feel particularly nice; his skin prickled where the Mark lay. “Right. Moony?”

 

Lupin waved his wand patiently, and Regulus’ vision went black, startling him for a moment as he jerked. A clanging noise; slight movement, then someone’s hand on his, guiding forwards.

 

“On my mark, just put your hand down. The handle’s there.”

 

Regulus set his jaw. He _hated_ Portkeys.

 

Young he’d always insisted on using the Floo Network, but his mother had indulged his fancy only a few years before putting her foot down. Commoners used the Floo Network; it made you come out dirty and undignified. Portkeys were the superior form of transport, and all old wizarding homes had a collection that no Mudblood could access, not to mention there was no room for error with _them_ , was there now?

 

_Leave him alone, mum, it was one time._

_If we hadn’t corrected that lisp it’d have been more than that._

Portkeys brought a whole array of horrors with them. The swooping feeling made him sick to the stomach, for one, and there was the mortification of appearing in the houses of important pureblood relatives flat on his face as his parents glided into the room (and Sirius, of course, Sirius had mastered Portkey travel so fast their _great-grandfather_ had commended him on it, and he loved the rush enough that he’d used to let go just before they landed so he could run the last few steps through the air, laughing delightedly).

 

It had ingrained some form of terrible anticipation in him every time he had to use one- even now his thoughts were creeping in like ivy, suggesting he might let go too soon and find himself stranded in London, unable to join the Order.

 

The magic of Portkeys, too, obscure as it was, had always frustrated him. It made no sense; they’d never studied it in depth enough for him to conciliate the Apparition and the Location spells at work. Bellatrix had gleefully regaled them with tales of mishaps, as children, of Splinching so hard some parts of the unfortunate wizard had never been found; Sirius had matched her morbid curiosity with peals of laughter, pressing for more stories, and Regulus had balled his fists in fear.

 

“Everyone ready?”

 

“Ready when you are, Padfoot.”

 

“Now!”

 

Regulus blindly grabbed on, palms sweaty with anxiety and a ten-second spasm of fear before his hands caught onto the handle, the Portkey whisking them off as his body tensed defensively, shoulders hunching as if to minimize the impact of the sickening loops.

 

He always lost his sense of time in Portkey travel- moreso blindfolded- and yet he registered quite distinctly the sudden presence of a hand pressed against his back, as if to stabilize him.

 

He barely had the time to think about what _that_ meant, but the feeling took him aback so much he stopped panicking and landed on his feet.

 

“Mssrs. Black and Lupin,” Albus Dumbledore called, pleasantly, as Sirius glided away without a glance back, leaving Regulus to stumble into an upright position, the veil over his eyes vanishing smoothly. “I am glad to see you all in good form.”

 

“Didn’t think we’d be seeing you so soon,” Sirius said, shortly, glancing around. They were in a strange, hollow building, which almost resembled some kind of old cathedral, save that where benches would have been there were now small curtained rooms.

 

“To me, it has felt as though a great many hours have passed,” Dumbledore answered, tranquil. “So must we all cope in our manner with the passing of time.”

 

One of the curtains pulled open by itself, revealing a far larger room than was visible from outside, displaying couches, a coffeetable, and bookcases full of little vials labelled with dates and potion bottles labelled with names.

 

“A waiting room is at your disposal,” Dumbledore indicated. “I would prefer if you could stay on the premises. This building is guarded, but alas- that, it seems, is no longer the defence it once was.”

 

The duo exchanged looks, and Lupin smiled a little distantly, bowing his head a fraction.

 

“We’ll keep an eye out.”

 

“Then, Mr. Black, if you would follow me,” the old wizard said, clear-eyed gaze coming to rest upon him. “We have much to discuss.”

 

The room that had opened in front of them resembled the Headmaster’s Office Regulus remembered from his prefect days, and he took a slow breath.

 

“Could I have a moment to…”

 

Something in the war leader shifted, and he gave him a calm smile. “Take your time.”

 

This was it, then. The secret that had been festering within him, to be delivered to the enemy- there was a sudden, last minute uproar in him, suggesting he just grab the Mark and everyone would come running, would believe he’d been working for their cause all the time, and Voldemort might…

 

No. No, of course not. Whatever his qualms with the Order, the Death Eaters under Voldemort stood for evil, pure and simple. This was no question of personal preference; his days of naïve belief and obedience were buried somewhere with his Hogwarts years.

 

In the end, perhaps it was a matter of duty. His mind went to Kreacher, agonized in that dreadful cave, crawling back to Master, and his brows furrowed. Yes. It was time to… Play his own role, for once.

 

He looked up, found Dumbledore had already entered the room, was looking pensively at his folded hands. Further in the room stood three other Order members Regulus didn’t recognize from afar.

 

“Professor?” He didn’t know what else to call the man.

 

“Mr. Black?”

 

He closed his weary eyes, reopened them.

 

“I’m ready to tell you everything. And-”

 

His tongue formed the words difficulty, as though through a mouthful of thorns; his nails digging lightly into his palms got him past it.

 

“I want Sirius to be in the room.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's good to be back. And now the plot begins to fall into place. I dare hope it's starting to become evident that Peter's death set off a whole series of changed events; as for our favourite quatuor, much awaits them still. 
> 
> Looking forward to hearing from you, and working on the next chapter before university gets too hectic once more.


	10. Flight of the Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lily, waiting, contemplates Regulus Black, Severus Snape, and a number of questions regarding morality. It's hard not to think back to familiar memories when everything seems to want to make you remember the lessons you learnt then. In the midst of it all, there is James, and their exchanges, an axis for the world to turn on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lily chapter again! i love lily evans... obviously bc i couldn't straight up spoil the surprise the chapter is p filler, and surprisingly snape-centric considering i hate snape, but i hope it's understandable given he's more there to allow insight into lily's psyche than bc he himself...matters. 
> 
> it's a lot of fun superposing past marauders w current jily.
> 
> i have a number of urgent questions that need to be answered b4 i can write the next chapter, so pls do check them out in the end notes, and enjoy the read.

Chapter Nine: Flight of the Prince

 

_“People find it far easier to forgive others for being wrong than being right.” -_ J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince

 

\--

 

_"Even beyond the obvious personal ties, there was her own feelings to eschew. Lily had seen a lot in Regulus’ dull eyes- resentment, anger, mistrust, yes, but most profoundly fear and unhappiness. And he was young, too young, and he looked too much like his brother. In him she saw her sister, saw Sirius, most importantly saw a child who’d been thrust too early into the adult world. She had no love for Death Eaters, no patience for bigots, but she had empathy, and she believed in redemption._

_Her feet hit the snowy floor of Godric’s Hollow. Unlike in London, it was still cold here, and snow had yet to turn to sludge._

_Somewhere in her heart of hearts, she’d always held hope of redemption in her life. Hoped Tuney would one day show at her door with sincerity in her eyes, relinquishing the bitterness in her heart just to maybe say sorry, once. Hoped Severus would understand, would know that she’d never asked him to change sides for her- she’d only ever wanted him to see for himself that he’d chosen the wrong path."_

_\--_

 

In times of crisis, Lily wasn’t sure who was the more emotional and more rational counterpart between herself and her husband. She liked to say she was the more level-headed, had certainly proclaimed so loudly during their late high school years, but beyond James’ easy empathy and impulsive behaviour, Lily tended to be the more hot-headed of the pair. Perhaps they balanced each other out (certainly the rest of the Marauders maintained they did, and it pleased her to think so); mostly it seemed one tried to occupy the role the other had left unattended, falling in step.

 

This mind-set, she thought, rather applied to their current situation.

 

With a sigh, Lily rolled her stiff shoulders and darted out of her hiding place, hurrying her pace towards the next shadows she could use for cover. She was relatively secure in her knowledge that no one was on her tail, but London was never truly safe from impromptu Death Eater encounters, beast of a city that it was. It depended on what you were more comfortable with: the anonymous independence but fickle moods of big cities, or the relatively snug but vulnerable aspect of small towns.

 

Godric’s Hollow was absolutely the latter; it was debatable whether she or James really fell in the second category. Lily had always felt her safest in her parents’ home, but she’d never wanted to recreate that environment as permanently as she had now. Their cosy little home was just that, and she and James were… Young, she supposed. Vivacious. Godric’s was where they might’ve settled, in twenty years, even ten, but it reeked of claustrophobia, in these long stretches of Order silence.

Not that the Order had been silent of late, she mused, returning to her previous line of thought. Not since Regulus Black and the others had been brought in.

 

She strode rapidly across to a park gate, made her way under the trees.

 

Yes, Regulus. Here, it was excusable that she take the removed route. Sirius, James, even Remus, for all that he tried to stay above it, were none of them particularly concerned with any of the original purposes of Regulus’ presence in Sirius’ apartment, as of now.

 

James was fretful, about the arrangement, displeased with the Order and worried about Sirius’ reaction- it had only been two days, and thus far, Sirius had given no news of their situation. For the boys, the interpersonal strain, or even Regulus’ potential (desired) personal dilemma, that was what took front stage- Lily, on the other hand, was kept awake by those fateful words of Dumbledore’s.

 

_Regulus poses a very real threat to Lord Voldemort himself._ And Regulus Black, that sullen, silent Sirius shadow that had stood unhappily in the room, held the secret to that elusive possibility Lily had almost begun to surrender- victory.

 

Victory? Early on in the war, it had seemed obvious, the triumph of good over evil- her optimism had faded over the years. Lily had never given up hope, not so soon, not so easily, but their numbers lessened, their allies dwindled, and their beliefs darkened day by day, in this silent war. It had become less about winning and more about surviving, less about saving the world and more about securing a world to save. Long gone were the half-sketched dreams of taking down Voldemort single-handedly, replaced by faint hopes of the dark order collapsing.

 

And yet Dumbledore, in all seriousness, had called Regulus a real threat, had spoken of the key to defeating the figure of nightmares that had plagued their lives for almost a decade. Could it be, then, that the young man with the brooding stare had somehow pieced together the answers to an unexplained riddle, had found the chink in the armour where no one else had succeeded?

 

She was almost in the clear. Wand in hand, Lily advanced quietly past the Ministry official strolling past, flicked the tracker discreetly onto his coat.

 

Time to make an exit.

 

After all of the death, all the pain… What weakness did Voldemort have? Some form of ancient dark magic, clearly, ran through his veins- Lily and James had faced him down, in living life, twice now, and there was nothing of the old Tom Riddle that had once attended their self-same school left in the hollowed, serpentine face and red eyes. And yet that magic was an enigma, some forgotten unspoken evil.

 

They had learnt of Grindelwald in school, of his reign of terror, of his subsequent defeat, but in this war there was no code of honour between wizards, or even an enemy who relied solely on his prowess. Voldemort played dirtier, and Dumbledore couldn’t simply face him in a duel. Too many times the so-called Dark Lord should have died, by now, too evidently he held in him a secret none of them could guess at.

 

With a wave of her wand, she whirred out of the city, eyes alert in case any unwanted guest came along once more. The trial incident had made her paranoid.

 

And yet, and yet, and yet. _Regulus Black._

Lily didn’t trust people like Regulus Black easily, and was unsure if she could rely on her usual guides in this particular instance. Sirius, with his brutal black and white morality, was ordinarily an astute observer; when coupled with Remus’ critical eye, their opinions were never far off target. But she’d seen Sirius’ face, when Regulus had come in, had hurt for him- she’d known Sirius after Regulus, had never seen that look on his face. She didn’t know, amongst the plethora of contradictory emotions, what would win him over, but she knew there were too many for objectivity. Which in turn compromised the others, because when Sirius Black was unreasonable, Remus and James rarely weren’t.

 

Even beyond the obvious personal ties, there was her own feelings to eschew. Lily had seen a lot in Regulus’ dull eyes- resentment, anger, mistrust, yes, but most profoundly fear and unhappiness. And he was young, too young, and he looked too much like his brother. In him she saw her sister, saw Sirius, most importantly saw a child who’d been thrust too early into the adult world. She had no love for Death Eaters, no patience for bigots, but she had empathy, and she believed in redemption.

 

Her feet hit the snowy floor of Godric’s Hollow. Unlike in London, it was still cold here, and snow had yet to turn to sludge.

 

Somewhere in her heart of hearts, she’d always held hope of redemption in her life. Hoped Tuney would one day show at her door with sincerity in her eyes, relinquishing the bitterness in her heart just to maybe say sorry, once. Hoped Severus would understand, would know that she’d never asked him to change sides for her- she’d only ever wanted him to see _for himself_ that he’d chosen the wrong path.

 

Severus was a hard topic to approach. She was almost entirely left to her own devices, when it came to him, because as much as James and the boys had stepped down (for her, once more, though she hoped later it had been out of their own goodwill) in their later years, there was little love for Severus Snape in any of them. And Lily- understood, nowadays. He was a Death Eater, now, had been since fifth year, really, and beyond that from their point of view had no redeemable qualities whatsoever. Which didn’t excuse them at all, for their bullying antics, but those they had worked to overcome, and Lily loved the men they’d grown to be, not the cruel boys they’d been.

 

Still, when it came to Severus, it was impossible to count on them to understand. Remus was the one she could talk to the most, on this topic, because his crime had always been one of omission and not act, but it was hard. For a long time Severus had been to Lily what Sirius was to James; certainly their friendship boggled the mind of anyone but themselves, and they had been so close… She’d missed him a lot, at first, missed his cleverness and begrudging kindness, missed his dry wit, missed his sloping walk. Severus came from a broken home. She’d often used that to justify him to her friends- they couldn’t understand, he had grown up in misery, in an awful household, surely his state could be sympathized with. And yet she’d seen, as they grew, that Severus chose at every turn not to be brave, not to open his heart, not to widen his views.

 

She’d made excuses for too long. Often she wished it had ended in any other way. Instead, _Mudblood!_ and fucking James Potter and his outrage, like he was morally superior because he’d only been tormenting Severus in front of a crowd for kicks, not out of prejudice.

 

It was over then because truly it had been over for quite some time. And Severus had grovelled, but it was always for the wrong reason.

 

A gaggle of teenagers came rushing by, running for the bus, and she shook her head. It had been a while since she’d thought about her old friend.

 

She had bloomed in Hogwarts, been so happy the first few years, when James Potter and his lackeys had not yet chosen to demonstrate their invulnerability by picking on Sev, when she’d made so many good girlfriends in Gryffindor and seen so much of Severus. Before she’d only had Petunia. Later it had strained, her friends never understanding how _Lily_ , perfect Lily, could spend time with such a _creep_ , honest, Lils, he’s so gross, and Lily had argued fiercely but resented it whenever Severus proved her wrong.

 

He never listened to her, those days. Only seemed fixated upon if she was still on his side, not Potter’s, only obsessed over if she was still…his. That had been another thing- she hesitantly acknowledged it, somewhere inside the confines of her mind. Severus had fallen for her, at some point.

 

Lily headed for the graveyard, not keen on returning to the cottage so soon, and headed into the old decrepit corner of the expanse, settling herself on a bench to watch the wind rattle the leaves. Her hands were cold.

 

Maybe he’d always been in love with her. But she, who had loved him more faithfully, had never loved him that way. In fact she knew, though his feelings must have been stronger, because of that look he sometimes got, that her friendship had been… healthier. Purer, even. Severus had seen a lot in her that she didn’t think existed; projected many things into her singular image. Men did that a lot, she found; tried to model you into something you weren’t for them to worship. Funny, that- she’d first noticed it on James, way back when.

 

_He thinks I’m some kind of Amazon ice queen just waiting for his charm to melt my heart- honestly, what a bell-end!_

_Guys like Potter get far that way._

_Sev, you know that’s not me. I’m a nice person when people aren’t twats!_

_And he is, and his so-called charm doesn’t seem very charming at all, if you ask me._

_No one’s ever said no to him before, not to James Potter. He thinks he can wear you down._

_Then he doesn’t understand me at all!_

Severus, to this day, probably still believed James had won her that way. He would never understand that people could change- and for the better. Lily’d never have gone for that James, the grinning jinx-throwing cocky prick who abused his many privileges by picking on the easiest targets. James had grown up, had seen her for who she was, had seen himself for who he had been, had made efforts to change accordingly. And it had taken him long, even then, to get her guard down, even just to be friends.

 

She’d fought of the friendship, because a nagging voice in her head had warned her early on that if she let James Potter be her friend it wouldn’t be long before she let him be more.

 

She looked fondly back on those early days of friendship, from the very end of Sixth Year onwards. It was inevitable, really. She and Remus had been close; James had grown up, and the lot of them had slotted into that tight-knit golden group of Gryffindors that the school loved to hate or hated to love. James had been so anxious not to do anything wrong, to go too far, and it had endeared her, watching James stumble over himself and beaming whenever she laughed even slightly at his jokes. Eventually he’d relaxed, and she’d let herself go too far to avoid _finally_ meeting that damn James Potter everyone else seemed to adore.

 

(She could see why.)

 

After James had come his friends. Remus she already loved; Peter she had always looked out for as the weakest link, and James now crept into her heart at alarming rates- and with him came Sirius, who’d circled from afar as if he could tell something important was unfolding and waited until things had settled before barging into their duo with all the tact of a hippogriff in a potion store.

 

She’d been most worried about Sirius, honestly, because it was so blatant that JamesAndSirius were something nothing could ever break, and if Sirius hated Lily, James would have eventually given in. In retrospect it seemed hilarious that she’d ever worried about _Padfoot_ , but then she’d always seen him as an extension of James, arrogant and handsome and the kind of boy you’d do terrible things for- which James did. It was true that over the years she’d started a sort of snarking fest with the other Gryffindor, but she’d genuinely disliked him for most of it, and she knew that at least for sixth year the sentiment was mutual.

 

She knew why, nowadays. As if Lily had ever wanted to usurp his place.

 

No, after the other three, Sirius had appeared charming and brilliant smack between the two of them, and Lily had begrudgingly loved him, much faster than James, because by accepting James she’d already invited him into her life. And James, bless him, had glowed with happiness, because his best girl and his best mate were genuinely hitting it off.

 

(“…And _McGonnagal’s_ face!”

 

“Stop,” Remus had cackled, wiping tears from where he was leaning into Lily’s side. “Guys. Really. Stop. You are literally Head Boy and Girl, you can’t be heard preaching anarchy.”

 

Lily had laughed, pleasantly buzzed from the Firewhiskey, and raised her glass to clink against James’.

 

“Oh, Remus, it was beautiful. You could just see the pride under the blank disapproval.”

 

“Lily Evans is a genius,” James had said, fervently, and she’d smiled into her glass to hide the pink tint of her cheeks, because nowadays that seemed to happen more and more often around him. “A genius, I tell you, we should have hired her for the map…”

 

“What’s this I hear of daring escapades, folks?”

 

Sirius, hair ruffled, smile quizzical, standing over them, and a strange tension in her stomach. Remus blinked once too slowly, and James’ bright smile not quite matching the dip of his brow.

 

“Lily and I just pulled off a fabulous thing, Pads,” James had said, with a warm nod her way. Sirius’ eyes had flitted over her, back to James for a beat that said a lot of things, and suddenly his smile had loosened, and he’d laughed, shrugging his cloak off nonchalantly.

 

“You think I didn’t see that? Who do you take me for?”

 

“Arse,” James had laughed, gratitude in the punch he threw at his leg, and Lily had smiled relieved with new knowledge in her mind until Sirius had grabbed her chin and pressed a dramatic kiss to her forehead, leaving a vague tint of pink behind.

 

“As for you, Evans, I love you. I have been telling Potter here for _eons_ that corridor serves _no_ purpose, but he’s always all _blah blah Head Boy responsible_ ,” pointed glare, “As _always_ , I am the voice of reason in this group.”

 

“ _Excuse me_ ,” Remus exclaimed, just as James groaned loudly and reeled Sirius in by his shirt, and Lily had grinned and felt- accepted. Approved. She’d never needed approval, but having it was… Important.

 

“Love you too, Padfoot. It’s good to be appreciated.”

 

All three boys had paused, and it was James’ accursed dimples her eyes went to first, traitors, but Remus’ audible hidden smile came close second, and Sirius’ slow raise of a glass, casual, mattered most.

 

“To the everlasting mutual appreciation in this group, excluding James.”

 

“Twat, I’m everyone’s favourite.”

 

“Didn’t we just establish Sirius is my favourite?”

 

“Yeah, and Lily’s mine.”

 

“Remus?”

 

“My favourite is this bottle of Firewhiskey.”

 

“Which I bought!”

 

“Yeah, well, James, money can’t buy you happiness.”)

 

 

The bench was getting too cold to sit on without conjuring fire, and her feet were protesting the boots she’d shoved them into.

 

As their house crept into sight, she felt her shoulders relax. She’d not picked up on the tenseness, but after the upheaval of the last…year, she supposed, she rarely felt at ease on Order jobs.

 

The Cat meowed begrudgingly at her approach, jumping off the ledge to patter after her towards the door. She didn’t even want to guess what it was doing outside; last time she had investigated she’d found what looked like a dead snake under the windowsill.

 

“Hey, babe!”

 

“Hey,” James’ voice came, muffled, from upstairs, as she kicked her boots off, relieved. “Be right down, I’m sorting papers.”

 

She had the time to get undressed and scoop The Cat up by the time James came stomping down the stairs, hair incredibly mussed and smile wide.

 

“Oh, wow, you _have_ been doing paperwork,” Lily noted, running a free hand through his curls. “That bad?”

 

James snorted, ruffling The Cat’s fur. “Yeah, that bad. How’s your mission been? You look like you’ve been thinking too much.”

 

“Too much for a pretty face like yours,” Lily tutted, before smiling vaguely. “I’ve had a lot of things to think about, I guess.”

 

James looked up, sobering as The Cat escaped their hold. “Yeah?”

 

Lily hesitated, raised a shoulder. “Regulus, you know. And- I’ve been thinking about Severus.”

 

James’ expression went through an acrobatic routine before settling on cautiously supportive. “You… want to talk about it?”

 

“Not particularly?” Lily answered, thinking it through. “Nothing new to say, really.”

 

James nodded, slowly, eyes zoning out a little as he thought. “Well- you know, I can always get Remus, too.”

 

“It’s not that,” Lily assured him, shaking her head. “Really. Just tales of redemption. You know how it is.”

 

James grimaced, nodded. “Right.”

 

“Mhm.” She sighed, smiled, hooked an arm through his. “Heard from Sirius yet?”

 

James shook his head as they headed to the couch, accepting the change in subject.

 

“Nothing. Which is weird, because… Well, no, not really. But I feel like it should be weird because I want to hear from him.”

 

“Self-aware,” Lily laughed, as he pulled a sheepish face. “Honey, Sirius would never not tell you.”

 

“He loves not telling me.”

 

“You know what I mean. And he has Remus around.”

 

“You think it’s possible Regulus is…” His voice trailed off, and he bit his lip, like there was a book of stories he knew that couldn’t be told. “I don’t know, Lils. We’ve been really, really lucky. I want it to be right.”

 

“Maybe it is,” Lily said, softly. “Dumbledore brought him in because he thought he knew something important.”

 

“But being useful and being good isn’t the same,” James argued, scrubbing at his eyes. “For Sirius right and wrong _matter_ , and Regulus matters so much- if it turns out all Regulus is here for is plain utilitarianism, I don’t…”

 

“He came to us, James. You know the Blacks. He came to us, that means something. And he’s young, and he’s Sirius’ brother. If he’s got any good in him, if this means anything, there’s no one better than us to get to him.”

 

Her husband looked up in surprise, and Lily set her mouth, although she herself had spoken without thinking. Perhaps it was true.

 

“Us?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“I thought you didn’t trust him.”

 

“I don’t,” Lily said, carefully. “He went to the Death Eaters, and his upbringing doesn’t excuse him, because we have Sirius. I just don’t think there are many people who aren’t able to learn and change. And if he’s anything like Sirius, if he tries, I wouldn’t be surprised if we can trust him one day. But he’ll have to try.”

 

James considered her, his expressive dark eyes searching and his hand resting on hers.

 

“What did I ever do to deserve you, Lils?”

 

“You tried,” Lily said, wryly. James kissed her, on the nose, on the cheeks, on the mouth, making her laugh, and she batted him off with minor resistance.

 

“You’re ridiculous.”

 

“No, I just love you like crazy.”

 

“You are crazy,” Lily murmured, amused, and leant in to kiss him properly, resting a hand against his smooth cheek. James’ hand carded through her hair; habitual, and she moved back to examine him, taking in his familiar looks, still soft and rumpled from sleep.

 

“Be honest, you’re thinking you should have married Sirius right now.”

 

Lily snorted, moving back. “You got me.”

 

James seemed about to say something, then held a finger out reflexively. “You never actually made out with Sirius, right? He always pretends you did in third year.”

 

“We never,” Lily stated, with an eyeroll. “I’ll concede I maybe thought he was hot in third year, but thankfully he never caught on to said feelings enough for something to happen, or we’d have been in a right mess by now.”

 

“I don’t know,” James replied, scrunching his nose. “ _I_ made out with Sirius and it never particularly made anything bad happen.”

 

Lily’s eyebrows rose.

 

“You know this, Lils,” James snorted, eyes mischievous. “I’m sure you witnessed at least one spin the bottle incident.”

 

“So this happened _several_ times?”

 

“Well, yeah, du- _not_ since you, obviously!”

 

“Wait, like it was a _regular_ thing before?”

 

“Not _regular-_ why are you looking at me like that?!”

 

“Cause!” Lily exclaimed, pushing her hair out of her face and gesturing at him impatiently. “That’s hot!”

 

James stared incredulously, then smirked.

 

“Seriously? Lily!”

 

“James, come _on_ , I’m _married_ to you and Sirius is _crazy_ attractive. How is that not hot?”

 

“No, it’s just- you just straight up saying _that’s hot_ , that’s hilarious.”

 

“Godric’s sake, James.”

 

“I never thought you’d be so superficial, Evans, frankly, you wound m-”

 

“Well, I’m sorry, how would you react if _I_ made out with Sirius?”

 

James paused mid-sentence, and his face did something strange. Lily sat back and crossed her arms.

 

“Well,” James started. His eyes had glossed over.

 

“ _Exactly_ ,” Lily nodded, triumphant. “Now spill.”

 

James blinked hard before running a hand through his hair distractedly. “Right. _Right._ Okay, so the first time is super embarrassing, do not mention this to Remus, he already has too much dirt on us, but basically, second year, do you remember that one time-”

 

 

They heard back from Remus, actually. From Remus, first. Sometime in the early afternoon. It did little to calm James’ nerves.

 

“Sirius said to tell you if he’d been gone past now. I don’t think he meant this way, but I figure sticking to the words might work in my favour as of now.”

 

“So he and Regulus have been inside that interrogation room for hours?” James asked, fingers tapping against his thigh impatiently. “What could Regulus have to say that lasted hours?”

 

“It’s probably more than his story,” Remus asserted, calmly. “Dumbledore is most likely trying to work things into place. If something was off I’d have gone in by now.”

 

James said nothing, but his expression read that he’d have entered the room long ago.

 

“You have no idea what he knows?” Lily asked, frowning. She didn’t want to pry, but if anyone knew what she meant it would be Remus, who shook his head understandingly.

 

“Believe me, if I knew, I’d have said. I’ve gathered it’s ancient evils, but then that’s obvious. Aside from that I know nothing. And I’ve barely spoken to either of them since their conversation.”

 

“He requested to have Sirius there?” James interjected, fixing his glasses. “Like, himself?”

 

“I’ve no certainty, since Dumbledore passed it on,” Remus answered, cautiously. “Although I doubt Dumbledore would have wanted Sirius around in confidential hearings, considering who Regulus is, and especially after what happened with…”

 

“So you think Regulus really wanted him there?”

 

Remus pursed his lips, nodded slowly. “Yeah, I s’pose. Although _why_ is an entirely different question, Prongs. Maybe he’s been planted by Voldemort, maybe he’s passionately in love with you, or maybe we’re lucky and he’s actually who Sirius wants him to be. I wouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

 

“No high hopes,” James said, flatly, to the mirror. “Well, thanks, mate. I appreciate the updates- and honesty.”

 

“Yeah,” Remus replied, sheepishly. “Sorry, I just… I’m trying to keep myself rational here.”

 

“It’s all good, Moony. You’re right.” James paused, squinted suddenly. “You’ve been taking those pills, right?”

 

“I told you, they barely work,” Remus sighed. “But yes, I’ve been.., Trying to.”

 

“The full moon is coming up,” Lily stated, looking pointedly at the faint fading scars on her long-time friend’s face. “Do what you have to, Moony. I’d rather you try too many pills than find you shot by some crazed paranoid Muggle or dragged off by the Death Eaters.”

 

“I’m not scared of them, Lils,” Remus sighed, a familiar reproach. “I’m scared of what I can do to them.”

 

That reminded her of something long ago, but the context was all different, and the man on the other side of the mirror was nothing of the greasy-haired gangly teenager who’d said something like that while stirring his potion, eyes bright with power.

 

Rustling, from the curtains. Remus’ back stiffened instinctively.

 

“Call us back when there’s news,” Lily said, nudging James, who reluctantly swiped a hand across the glassy surface, cutting the connection. Her husband’s face was troubled; she nudged his arm lightly, catching his attention.

 

His expression softened. “Sorry. Just- I wish I was there too.”

 

“I know, love. So do I,” Lily nodded, putting an arm around his shoulders and exhaling. “Why on earth did you have to befriend Sirius Black, hm?”

 

James’ lips quirked upwards, absently. “You’d have found a way to do it, if I hadn’t.”

 

“How would I have done that?”

 

“Well, if he’d have gone to Slytherin, you’d have met him because of Snape. And they would have hated each other, but you would have begrudgingly found Sirius sort of funny, after a while, and he’d have fought with everyone in his house all the time, so there’d be a running gag he was really a Gryffindor, and your other friends would have liked him well enough, and…”

 

“Did you have this written down somewhere?” Lily laughed, dropping her head to his shoulder.

 

“Written in the stars. The Evans-Black conspiracy.”

 

“Ew, you’re so cheesy.”

 

“I’ve got it on good authority you find it adorable.”

 

“My past continues to haunt me.”

 

James rolled his eyes dramatically, hand to his chest, and they both sat comfortably for a moment, enjoying the brief relapse into James-and-Lily, the easy understanding, the mutual entertainment, the quick banter that had all cemented their relationship, come Seventh Year.

 

“Do you remember, when was it, November of our last year?”

 

James snorted. “How can I forget?”

 

“That was bad,” Lily admitted, amused. “I made so many statements I cringe to think back upon.”

 

_James Potter? Are you crazy, Marlene? We’re_ friends. _Nothing more, nothing less._

_Yeah, and I’m a virgin._

_Fifth year was eons ago, Mar, he doesn’t even like me that way anymore, and even if he did, it wouldn’t matter, because I certainly don’t._

 

“I would just like to point out,” James said, delicately, “That that was all on you.”

 

“Excuse me?” Lily harrumphed, tossing her hair back. “I do not accept sole responsibility for that, Potter, you were worse than I was-”

 

“No way,” James interrupted, firmly. “I may have made a fool of myself for three years running after you, and spent the start of that year tripping over myself trying to be a good friend while being head over heels in love, but the _only_ person responsible for November was you.”

 

Lily made to argue, considered it, grimaced sheepishly.

 

“…You may have a point.” And, before James’ ego swelled too much: “ _But_ , and this is an important interjection, the only reason I was so heavily in denial is because you’d been such a massive twat before.”

 

“Rather go out with the Giant Squid,” James reminisced, lips twitching a little before Lily glared. “Sorry, sorry! I know it’s not funny. Just- you had a way with words.”

 

Lily scoffed, prodded at him with her foot. “Had I known my creative insults only served to inspire you further, I’d have settled for cold silence.”

 

“I’m a man with simple tastes,” James announced, nodding serendipitously. “If you’re completely out of my league, an absolute firecracker of a person, and insult me beautifully, there’s a high chance I’ll dig it.”

 

“Slughorn always said not to settle.”

 

“Ah, good old Horace. What a man.”

 

“Elitist,” Lily groused, although it was without heat. “I always kind of liked him, in that vaguely distasteful way.”

 

“He was a huge fan,” James snarked. “Oh, Miss Evans, what a potion, did I mention I’m such a supporter of Muggleborns, Miss Evans, do come for tea, pose for a picture…”

 

“Don’t act like you and Sirius weren’t sought after trophies,” Lily rebutted. “Nightmares that you were.”

 

“We made life extremely interesting,” James replied, serene. “I’m sure they all miss us more and more as time goes by.”

 

“Stockholm Syndrome,” Lily coughed. “I’m pretty sure the whole staff turned to drink during those years.”

 

“We were the life and soul of that castle and you know it.”

 

“That poor castle had no escape.”

 

“Dear Hogwarts,” James said, fondly. “We had that place covered top to bottom.”

 

Lily hummed, stared upwards.

 

“You know, I always wonder what’ll become of the map.”

 

“Ah, Filch, the man of the hour,” James smirked. “He really thought he’d gotten us, there. As if we didn’t want to leave the map behind for future generations.”

 

“You lot were so annoyingly smart. That’s a solid piece of magic.”

 

“Weren’t we just?”

 

“Don’t let it get to your head, Mr. Potter.”

 

“Such a high compliment, from such a pretty girl…”

 

“Oh, stop it, you.”

 

Conversation eventually tapered off, Lily making herself lunch and James going for a ride with The Cat, shaking off some pent up energy, and Lily found herself without anything to do, settled in the corner of the sofa with a book in her hand.

 

That was the thing, with this war. Not only had it stolen their youth, but it had monopolized their lives. Careers were not a possibility; gone were Lily’s dreams of working in research and development. She’d had plans- spells and potions on the wizarding side, maybe attending university on the Muggle side, opening her options, and seeing the world, getting out of the UK.

 

All of that had been put on hold, at first temporarily, now without an end in sight.

 

Depending on the task, the Order gave them purpose, and put their talents to the test, but it was barely the same. For the Order, there was always an urgency and a darkness underlying the work, the grim knowledge of what would happen if they failed, the fallen faces of friends and foes a constant reminder that these were not leisure plans.

 

She sighed, looked down at the textbook. Advanced Potions, her trustworthy guide to Slughorn’s class, and her favourite in terms of potions. The last year was more practical; Sixth Year had presented all the glitz and glamour of the exciting potions, the ones that did fabulous things; _Felix Felicis_ to _Amortentia_.

 

She flicked back through the book, landed on the Draught of Peace, looked absently at the turquoise liquid shimmering on the page. It seemed Severus was determined to come to mind, today. Second term of Fifth Year, an ironically difficult potion to make, considering its intent, and she and Severus, top of the class, had flitted around each other with ease, casual where everyone else was stressed.

 

Anxiety and agitation… Why not.

 

Invigorated, Lily scoured their cabinet, digging through the various knick-knacks and genuine magical items for what she needed. The ingredients themselves were pretty basic: powdered moonstone, syrup of hellebore, porcupine quills… Only the unicorn horn was hard to obtain, but they had a vial of powdered horn somewhere upstairs, after the Moony incident the previous year.

 

The handbook, as then, was frustratingly vague for a potion with such exact steps. Lily relied on instinct and memory rather than precise guidance.

 

_To brew the Draught of Peace, follow these steps:_

  1. _Add powdered moonstone until the potion turns green._



“Have you heard what Avery did last night?”

 

Severus had frowned, squinted at the cauldron. They’d used Lily’s, as they always did, because Severus’ cauldron was battered and Lily was planning to buy him a new one in time for Christmas.

 

“I don’t exactly pay attention to what he does. Get drunk again?

 

“He and some older guy stalked two first year Hufflepuffs to their common room and threatened to slit their throats.”

 

“It’s green,” Severus had announced, then frowned. “Yeah, Avery’s a bell-end. But people’ve been doing that forever, frightening the first years.”

 

  1. _Stir until the potion turns blue._



 

“What, and you’re okay with that? Sev.” She’d stirred faithfully, staring him down until he met her eyes and faltered.

 

“No- I mean, _no_ , but I don’t see how it’s worse than Potter and his lackeys. They torment the Slytherins just as much.”

Lily’s eyes had gone to where Potter and Black sat in the front row, raucously laughing at something in the book, Black’s cheek streaked with shimmering moonstone, and pulled a face in annoyance.

 

“Well, exactly! I’m not friends with Potter, so why on earth do you tolerate Avery?”

 

  1. _Add powdered moonstone until the potion turns purple._



 

“Good work, you two,” Slughorn commented, in passing, winking at Lily, who’d smiled absently before turning her demanding glance back on her friend, occupied at the time blowing his hair out of his face.

 

“It’s not the same,” Severus had defended, examining the colour of the potion. “It’s just how people are, in Slytherin. Besides, you know I’m not exactly close to him, I just talk to him when I have to.”

 

“You don’t have to at all.”

 

  1. _Allow to simmer until the potion turns pink._



They’d both sat back, leaving the potion, and he’d sneered. “Yes, I do, Lily. Thanks to Potter, your house is already out for my blood. It’s easier when it’s not just me.”

 

Lily’s frown had receded a little, guilt in her stomach. “It’s so unfair. I don’t know how they can call themselves the hero house.”

 

“Hypocrites,” Severus had sneered, with a glare towards the front row. “They’re worse than Avery is.”

 

  1. _Add syrup of hellebore until the potion turns turquoise._



 

“No,” Lily had replied, remembering why she’d brought this up to begin with. “Avery and his lot go after Muggleborns like me.”

 

Severus had focused on the syrup, and her stomach had sunken.

 

“Who told you that? Gryffindors?”

 

“My own eyes? Sev. You know Avery and his mates are into that, that Death Eater nonsense…”

 

“They’re idiots, I know,” Severus had said, putting the syrup down and giving her a brooding glance through his matted fringe. “But what am I supposed to do about it?”

 

  1. _Allow to simmer until the potion turns purple._



 

She’d glanced back at the backrow of Slytherins, who leered upon making eye contact, and scowled.

 

“Do you tell them it’s all a joke, being friends with me?”

 

“Lily…”

 

“Do you?”

 

  1. _Shake powdered porcupine quills vigorously until they are ready and then add until the potion turns red._



 

“Of course I don’t!” Severus had exclaimed, eyes intent upon meeting hers as she angrily shook the powder. “Lily- please. You know I don’t. None of them matter. You do.”

 

The potion turned a bleeding red. She bit her lip and met his eyes, dark and driven.

 

“Trouble in paradise?”

 

Both their heads had snapped up; Sirius Black perched against the corner of their desk, cheek sparkling with powder and smirk heavy. Their expressions had turned stony.

 

“Did anyone request your presence here, Black?”

 

“Come on, Evans, I came for friendly advice.”

 

“As always, incapable of accomplishing anything himself, Black has turned to abusing others into assisting him,” Severus had snapped, poisonously. “I hear it runs in the family.”

 

“You want to go there, mate?” Sirius had retorted, expression instantly ferocious. “Shall we bring up what runs in your family, like maybe you’re so hell-bent on sucking off all those junior Death Eaters because daddy didn’t like mummy being a witch and liked t -”

 

“Don’t talk about my mother, Black-” Severus’ face distorted with anger, and Lily furiously interjecting, “How dare you come up here and talk to him like that-”

 

  1. _Stir until the potion turns orange._



 

“Is there a problem, Mr. Black, Mr. Snape?”

 

“None whatsoever, Professor,” a suddenly present Potter had announced, throwing an apparently relaxed arm around Black’s shoulders to reel him in, the latter’s expression tightening. “Just some interhouse banter.”

 

To her, he’d flashed an easy smile; she’d seethed. “Hullo, Evans. Come on, Pads, let’s not waste everyone’s time with the sordid details of Sniv’s family history.”

 

  1. _Add more porcupine quills until the potion turns turquoise._



“Does your leash ever get a little tight?” Severus had hissed after Black, who’d turned like a dancer on his heel to lean in dangerously close to him, eyes glinting.

 

“Dunno, mate. Do you ever wonder how many days you have left until she can’t make excuses for you anymore?”

 

  1. _Allow to simmer till the potion turns purple._



  1. _Add powdered unicorn horn until the potion turns pink._



  1. _Stir until the potion turns red._



  1. _Allow to simmer until the potion turns purple._



She’d been the one to break the silence.

 

“He’s a twat, Sev. Just- you’re better than that, don’t sink to their level.”

 

Severus’ expression had stayed ugly, fixed on the cauldron. “I’d kill them if I could.”

 

  1. _Add more powdered moonstone until the potion turns grey._



_“_ What an exquisite grey, Miss Evans! I do hope you’ll do me the pleasure of coming along to the Club tomorrow.” Slughorn, again, beaming.

 

“We’d love to, Professor.”

 

His smile had stiffened, glancing at Severus, before widening again. “Well, yes, yes. Good. Looking forward to it.”

 

“Oh, come on,” Lily had said, tension lessening slightly at Sev’s more familiar outrage, once Slughorn had wandered out of earshot. “It’ll be fun!”

 

“I _detest_ the Slug Club.”

 

“But having you there is so much more fun than going alone. We can make fun of everyone else there, you love doing that.”

 

“They’re easy targets, Lily.”

 

  1. _Allow the potion to simmer until it turns orange._



“It’s been ages since we did something out of class,” Lily had insisted, finally shaking her hair out of her ponytail. “We can’t spend all of our free time working on potions and spells. Which reminds me, you still haven’t shown me the new spells you’ve been working on.”

 

“You wouldn’t find them interesting.”

 

“Nonsense! I love new spells.”

 

Severus’ expression had shifted, relaxed. “If you’d like.”

 

“Thank you. You’re the best.”

 

  1. _Add more powdered porcupine quills until the potion turns white._



“Half an hour left!”

 

“And we’re practically done,” Lily had smiled, held out a hand for him to high-five as he measured the quills. “I love potions.”

 

“Slughorn loves you,” Severus had snorted. “Do you think he knows my name by this point?”

 

She’d laughed, batting at his shoulder as he smiled dryly. “Stop. It’s not even funny. It’s been years.”

 

“Miss Evans and… the rest of the world.”

 

  1. _Simmering lowers heat. Add exactly 7 drops of hellebore._



“You ever considered teaching here one day?” Lily had asked, absent-mindedly, as she counted down the drops. “Not Potions, necessarily. I think I’d enjoy teaching Charms.”

 

“Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Severus answered, faster than she’d expected. “Although I couldn’t stand having to deal with idiot first years. I’d have to take Seventh Year.”

“There we go. All done. Hail me, the potion-mistress,” Lily had announced, gesturing to the turquoise blue. “I am the chosen one.”

 

“Yeah,” Severus had snorted, eyes strange. “Take the credit.”

 

_Leave to simmer before consuming._

It wasn’t quite a perfect turquoise, but it was close enough. Lily set the cauldron down on the counter, leaned back against the cupboard. It was difficult thinking back to those days. She’d have preferred, often, to think of better days, earlier years, when they’d gotten along without any of the fighting, where she’d not been fighting to get him to concede her points for their own sake.

 

Severus was always willing to back down, but always for her, rarely because he agreed himself. It frustrated her to no end. At the time James had done the same.

 

Only one of them had ever understood what they were doing wrong.

 

“Hey!”

 

“Hey.”

 

James, ruffled and sweaty, looking for all the world like a matured version of his Quidditch days, The Cat pissed off as it shot into the room.

 

“You’ve been brewing again,” James noted, eyes crinkling as he surveyed the table. “It smells nice.”

 

“Draught of Peace,” Lily answered, waving at the ingredients she was cleaning up. “For Remus. After the… You know.”

 

James peered at the liquid, scrunched his nose reflexively. “Is that the one with all the weird stirring?”

 

“What an astounding description.”

 

“Oi.”

 

“Yes, it is,” Lily conceded, waving her wand a last time to evaporate residue powders and float the boxes neatly away. “It’s been a while since I sat down to make it.”

 

“It’s nice,” James hummed, rubbing her back as he headed for the cabinet. “I like watching you make potions. You’re so effortless.”

 

“I’m a little rusty.”

 

“Oh, please. I could blindfold you and you’d still create a perfect example of whatever we asked you to make.”

 

“Any requests, then?”

 

James hummed. “Felix Felicis isn’t feasible, I suppose?”

 

“Hard to get by the ingredients, these days,” Lily acknowledged, kicking out a seat and observing the swirling turquoise. “People overdose on it, trying for protection.”

 

“Not that, then. Amortentia?”

 

“You trying to rope someone else into your harem, Potter?”

 

“Don’t be daft- _Wingardium Leviosa,_ ” James snorted, midway through levitating his mug above the small fire. “It smells good, is all.”

 

“It smells more than good,” Lily agreed, huffing a smile. “But then I don’t need to make Amortentia to smell most of those things, do I?”

 

“And you call me sappy,” James reproached, brightness belying his words.

 

“I called you cheesy, actually. Completely different.”

 

He kicked his own stool out and sat across from her, killing the flames and grabbing his cup with ease. “So is that a no for the Amortentia? You’re testing my potion knowledge here.”

 

“You did Advanced with me. I know for a fact you know more than those two.”

 

“Doing Advanced does _not_ mean I retained anything,” James protested. “Sirius and I did advanced _Divination_ and _Alchemy_ , for the kicks. Plus a bunch of stupid extra-curriculars.”

 

“I thought Magical Theory was very interesting, albeit absurdly heavily taught,” Lily noted, before pausing. “What did you even take? Muggle Music, wasn’t it? Oh, wait, no, didn’t you take part in the Frog Choir?”

 

“The Frog Choir was a beautiful institution,” James sniffed, taking a sip of his tea. “Nah, we did like Ghoul Studies and shit. And all those exchange classes with the other schools, but then so did you.”

 

“Oh, yes,” Lily acquiesced, lifting a brow. “I had a pen pal at Castelobruxo who was probably the funniest person I ever spoke to, and then that awful guy from Ilvermony who insisted on calling me a Half-Maj.”

 

“I seem to recollect you complaining about him, yes,” James snorted. “Sirius and I had people from Uagadou, remember? They came up to London for like a week.”

 

“ _Right_ , Kaikara and Bacia. Didn’t Sirius hook up with both of them within the first two days?”

 

“Yeah, and let me tell you, she was so nonchalant about it even Sirius was in awe. Legitimately the coolest person I ever met. Wandered around our dorm with a cigarette and combat boots on.”

 

“I know. I was, like, in love with her. She had the coolest buzzcut. I almost shaved my hair after that.”

 

James looked at her hair consideringly. “I’m glad you didn’t.”

 

“You don’t think I could wear a buzzcut?”

 

“No,” James dissented, fixing his glasses. “I mean, no, that’s not what I think. You could wear anything and make it look good. I just love how lively your hair is, long.”

 

“Lively hair is not a thing,” Lily corrected, grinning nonetheless at the compliments. “You’re so goddamn cute, James.”

 

“You know just what a girl wants to hear.”

 

The potion had cooled down enough; Lily rose to pour it into a handful of vials, carefully stopping them before they overflowed.

 

“Do you think he’d ever have gone on our side?”

 

She turned a startled look towards James, knowing what he meant but wondering at his raising the topic. Those days were long behind them, and generally James accepted he’d been a dickhead and Lily accepted Severus had proved her wrong, but it was an area they mostly steered clear of, simply because there was no real reason to broach it and neither of them enjoyed the memories.

 

“Snape, I mean.”

 

“I know who you meant,” Lily said, slowly, thinking. “I don’t know. I think of it sometimes. I don’t think he’s particularly loyal to the Death Eaters, it’s more…”

 

James looked like he had his ideas, but he waited her out as she towelled her hands.

 

“It’s more character than belief-driven. I doubt he has any strong feelings about Voldemort, but in his family… His hatred of Muggles comes from his own father. And it’s not like Sirius,” Lily interjected, because she could read it in his eyes, “Because Severus’ father _was_ one, and he made his childhood hell. It tied into his own self-esteem.”

 

“Half-Blood Prince,” James echoed, something passing through his eyes too fast for her to catch. “I remember.”

 

“You’re purebloods, all of you. You can’t understand.”

 

“That’s true,” James agreed, running a hand through his hair. “Still, Lils…”

 

“I know. How much of it is excusable and how much is just him? A nasty, spiteful, self-centred person. He was always so cruel to Petunia, and she’d never done anything to him, at first.”

 

She shook her head. “I don’t know. He might have joined the Order, but it wouldn’t have been for their values. He wouldn’t have… cared.”

If he’d have joined the Order, it would have been for her. And even then, those final strains of their friendship- if he’d cared so much, why hadn’t he said no, back then?

 

“What’d you like about him?”

 

Wasn’t he full of surprises. Lily gave him a sceptic look, and James raised a shoulder.

 

“You used to hate all my friends. I just thought…”

 

“Your friends changed for the better,” Lily pointed out, tugging her sweater lower. They exchanged looks. “Hm.”

 

She cast her mind back, imagined the eleven year old she’d met first.

 

“He was smart; very funny. Astute. A way with words. He’d been through a lot. And he was… He’d been there since the start, for me. All my strangeness began to make sense after we met.”

 

James shook his head, gave her half a smile.

 

“Sounds like someone I never met.”

 

“Well, you never did.”

 

Her husband hummed, tapped his fingers against his cup. “Sorry.” It was one word, would have seemed laughably worthless, but she knew what he meant.

 

“I don’t miss him.” It was true- she didn’t nowadays. And if she did it was never him, only who he’d once seemed to be. “I only wish for his sake he’d turned out a better man.”

 

“Well, if he ever changes his mind about the whole irredeemable asshole thing in favour of character development,” James started, making her laugh, “I want you to know- seriously- that I’d be happy to have him.”

 

“You can’t stand him,” Lily said, fondly.

 

“I’d make the effort.”

 

“I know you would.”

 

Their exchange was interrupted by a muffled voice emerging from James’ backpocket.

 

“ _James_?”

 

James jolted upright, fumbling for the mirror as Lily steadied his mug, listening intently.

 

“Sirius!”

 

“ _Remus said to tell you I was out._ ”

 

“Yeah, yeah, course. Are- is Regulus okay? What’s going on?”

 

“ _Honestly? I don’t fucking know. I’ve spent hours listening to this story and I feel like I ended up knowing less than I did before. Also-_ ”

 

His voice stopped. Lily scrutinized James’ face, found concern; the silence pulled until Sirius’ voice started up again, heavy, reluctant.

 

“ _I miss my brother._ ”

 

James exhaled slowly, eyes reassuring, and Lily leant back. If that didn’t resonate with her… She wondered if James could understand, only child that he was, although perhaps knowing Sirius as well as he did was enough.

 

“Padfoot…”

 

“ _Yeah, I- look, I know I said to keep you two away for now, but you… Definitely need to hear all this. So if you’re not busy it’s probably best if you come over. For the Order thing, I mean. It’s fucked up._ ”

 

“We’ll be there in ten.”

 

“ _I’ll see you then,_ ” Sirius sighed, audibly ruffling his hair. “ _Bring booze. Please._ ”

 

“Will do,” James noted, before frowning suddenly. “Hey, Padfoot?”

 

“ _What, James._ ”

 

“I love you.”

 

Lily nodded, glad he’d done it, and Sirius across the mirror went quiet, before chuckling tiredly.

 

“ _Yeah. I know. Me too. And you, Evans._ ”

 

“We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

 

It seemed, after all, it was time to know just what Regulus Black held over Lord Voldemort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love james and lily; they needed some solo screen time. also i....love writing them as teens...
> 
> i do need some help choosing direction for the next couple of months, so could you be so lovely as to answer these in the comments?
> 
> 1/ this fic kind of has ot4 (james, lils, sirius, and remus) all in a romantic tangle; would everyone be on board w that becoming more explicitly a part of the plot etc? not as in it starts drama, obviously, but just the ot4 being more cemented by the characters. 
> 
> 2/ would anyone be interested in like a side-series w flashbacks of various duos during Hogwarts era? it wouldn't slow down the work on LMV, but i've gotten vague requests for it previously. 
> 
> 3/out of curiosity, where do you think LMV will end?


	11. The Writing On The Wall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Marauders, or what remains of them, enter a new chapter of the war, with the terrible secrets of the Dark Lord beginning to unfold. James juggles responsibilities, the Order, his home life, his friends, and Regulus Black, all the while wondering about their role in the war- and, most of all, about Albus Dumbledore and what he'll tell them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy fuck i last updated in OCTOBER- i am honestly so sorry, i don't know how i would cope were i on the other side. i've had a very tumultuous couple of months, and i've had to think long and hard about whether LMV could continue, and how. when i started writing in 2015, i never considered it would last me all the way into university, and here i am, 2018 bright and new, and this story is still going, and people are still reading. it feels odd to me to think that it'll end one day and i'll never hear from you all again- maybe when i post that last chapter i can fundraise a published copy for each of you guys, get some coffee with you or something. 
> 
> anyways. i apologise again for the horrendous delay, and will hopefully get the next chapter out before may this time ( i better, i have exams then ). the story has begun to actually lift off into DH territory, as expected, and i'm still not 100% on if i'll be retracing the whole of that plot, but we shall see. in any case, enjoy, and thank you.

Chapter Ten: The Writing On The Wall

 

“ _Danger lies before you, while safety lies behind_ _.”_ _-_ J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone

 

\--

_“Professor,” Lily said, gently enough. “If we’re going to do this, we’ll need to know all we can. Everything you have on Riddle. We can’t go into this blindly.”_

_For the first time since they’d walked in, tension billowed, but the old man didn’t let much shine through his expression, secretive as always._

_“Yes, I suppose you’re quite right.”_

_So it would be them, James understood, in time with the others, and allowed himself a moment to register it fully. It would be them whose life goal, from now, was chasing down these fragments of Voldemort’s soul and destroying them, no matter the cost, no matter how many there were. It would be them, and their game started now._

_\--_

 

James got an eyeful of Sirius shucking his shirt off first thing through the door, which was never an unwelcome sight, but his eyes focused on the ugly scars still criss-crossing his best friend’s back. The lines were dark, slender, woven up and across; some looked fresh still.

 

Peter. It still didn’t feel real if he thought about it, but strangely (perhaps not, perhaps normally, in this war) he didn’t, anymore, didn’t have the time, had more pressing concerns.

 

Sirius shimmied into a cardigan as Lily swooped in behind James, turning at the sound as his face half-brightened half-fell.

 

“We brought booze,” Lily gestured, before James could ask anything. “Where can I put this?”

 

“Anywhere,” Sirius replied, heavy thanks in his voice. “The good stuff. Ah, you have excellent taste in all but men, Lils.”

 

“Cheers,” Lily nodded, carrying off the load as James levitated his to sit on hers. “I’ll go for kitchen table.”

 

It was just them for a moment, both obviously trying to say whatever was most urgently on their mind but unsure of what that was. James opened his mouth to ask, changed his mind, wanted to reassure, changed his mind again.

 

“I don’t know what to…” Sirius started, carefully, scrunching his nose up before sighing. “Nah. I just don’t fucking know, mate. I don’t fucking know.”

 

Well, James could echo that. He opened his arms questioningly, and Sirius considered him for a second before smirking tiredly and stepping into the hug. It wasn’t one of those grounding, fall to pieces kind of hugs they’d had alarmingly often in the past while, but his familiar weight had always had the same knee-jerk instinct in James to never let go.

 

Which he did, reluctantly, Sirius punching his shoulder in thanks.

 

“How’s Regulus holding up?”

 

Sirius exhaled through his nose, consideringly. He looked a little thoughtful, an unusual look on his usually certain face.

“Weight off his chest, I guess. If we believe him.”

 

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you didn’t,” James stated, turning to glance into the living room. “I don’t see him?”

 

Sirius shook his head, sharp. “He’s sleeping. My room. Wanted you four to hear and couldn’t let him hang around the same area.”

 

When James turned an inquisitive glance towards him, he’d already popped into the room.

 

Remus looked increasingly poorly, and the day of surveillance clearly hadn’t helped, his face drawn and his eyes tight with the slowly growing ache he always felt as the moon grew in the sky. James seated himself next to him even as he gestured to sit next to Sirius instead, gripping his knee as he did.

 

“The gerbil ran off again, I see.”

 

“I always think I can’t forget how much it hurts, and then it comes back and I realize I have.”

 

“Oh, Moony,” Lily sighed, sympathetic as she rubbed his arm. “We’ll go grocery shopping, get you some good things for the recovery.”

 

“Venison?” Remus asked, a bit hopefully. Then, as James squinted: “Sorry. It just tastes good.”

 

“As long as you don’t go getting any ideas,” Sirius interjected, sitting down cross-legged with a book by his side. “We need our stag intact, thanks.”

 

The room focused on him, and Sirius combed a hand through his hair, rather like James had used to do non-stop, around Lily. His wrist was bonier than it had any right to be.

 

“You guys ever heard of a Horcrux?”

 

“A Horcrux?” James asked, running the word through his mind. It didn’t ring any bells- not even from forgotten class memories. He frowned at Lily, who frowned back. Unusual, for neither of them to recognize the word.

 

“I don’t think I remember ever coming across it,” Remus said, which really did unsettle James. Although Remus didn’t necessarily devote his entire life to bookishness, he had been one of their year’s most academically inclined students. Whatever a Horcrux was had to be particularly obscure.

 

“I might have,” Sirius sighed, “But I definitely wouldn’t remembered it. It’s the sort of thing you may find one whisper of in an extremely dubious Black family heirloom.”

 

Remus and Lily’s eyebrows shot up. James fixed Sirius intently, heaviness settling in his chest. From what he knew, that sort of “heirloom” contained veritable horror story stuff- the most ghastly tidbits of history, some very Dark wizards indeed putting their clever Black minds to work on Muggles that crossed them. A _Horcrux_ only getting hinted at did not bode well.

 

“A whisper that caught Regulus’ ear,” James inferred, questioningly. Sirius inclined his head, wry.

 

“Yeah. Regulus has always been such a _studious_ family member, you know, so proud of our lineage, so respectful of our history. Polishes the silverware in his spare time, I reckon.”

 

“What,” Lily asked, tucking her hair behind her ear, “Is a Horcrux?”

 

Sirius’ lips quirked up humorlessly. “Dark form of magic, for the most desperate wretch. Essentially-”

 

He paused for an instant. James could read in his eyes the desire to be blasé about this, and steeled himself for having it thrown at him.

 

“Well. You fulfill a series of atrocities to be able to split your soul and preserve a piece of it inside something out of your body.”

 

He’d remember those words, later. They’d stay in his head, even though in the moment it slid through his mind like sand blown through a beach. Something about the wording, the quickness of the phrase- it stayed put, time after time.

 

“Split your soul?” Lily said, first. Her voice was stiff with something like disbelief, but her eyes said she knew she’d heard just fine. “Sirius, You-Know-Who _split his soul_?”

 

“Wants to live forever, doesn’t he.”

 

“I didn’t know you could live with half a soul,” James heard himself say, dully. Imagining under which circumstances a man could be driven to tear his soul in half- imagining what kind of man could live with half a soul…

 

It explained things, he supposed. But it also made a great sort of emptiness rise in him, a realization that the man known as Voldemort could destroy the world, the way he was.

 

“Oh, he hasn’t split it in half,” Sirius said. His face was caught in a grimace. “Regulus reckons it’s at least four pieces.”

 

“Four,” Remus echoed.

 

And they sat, the four of them, the room feeling very bare somehow. Lily exhaled heavily; James’ eyes danced across the room, over Sirius’ head.

“How do… Can a Horcrux be destroyed?”

 

“I don’t know,” Sirius shrugged. “Regulus didn’t know.”

 

“Did he know how,” James asked. His voice had risen. “Did he tell you how a Horcrux is made?”

 

“No. But Dumbledore knew. I could tell.”

 

“We have one, don’t we?” Remus asked, quietly. “A Horcrux. Your brother must know where one is.”

 

Sirius met his eyes, nodded tautly. “Yeah. All thanks to the fucking family house-elf.”

 

“ _Kreacher_?”

 

“Yes, James. Thanks to _Kreacher_ , we may yet defeat the Dark Lord.”

 

His tone was sardonic, but there was something like rage underlying it, and James eyed him warily. He’d jerk away if he tried to pull him in now.

 

“You-Know-Who used Kreacher for something,” Remus deduced. “That’s why your brother wants him safe. Because he knows something.”

 

“Nah, my brother is just in love with that thing,” Sirius said, derisive. “But there’s no doubt Kreacher is our biggest lead. ‘S why Dumbledore wants us to get someone to collect him.”

 

“Us, as in _us_?” James asked, eyes narrowing.

 

“The Order,” Sirius waved away. “Who knows, though? To get into my parents’ place most likely either Regulus or me has to go inside.”

 

“No,” James replied, immediately. “The Death Eaters know Regulus has been taken by the Order, and You-Know-Who knows he’s linked even vaguely with his- _Horcrux_. Sending your brother would be sending him straight to his death.”

 

“The Dark Arsehole thinks Kreacher died in the cave,” Sirius sighed, palm against his cheek. “Only came back cause my brother accidentally ordered him to. Most likely he thinks Regulus and the others we captured are goners- he won’t be thinking we’d take him _home_.”

 

“I still don’t think we should be letting Regulus anywhere near potential surveillance or your house,” Remus stated, shaking his head. “Who knows what he’d do, what your parents would do, what the Death Eaters might be doing? There’s too many things that could go wrong. We can’t risk losing our closest connection to defeating the dark side.”

 

“Then it’ll be me,” Sirius shrugged. His shoulders were set like he’d been expecting it. James wagered he’d never have let Regulus go pick up Kreacher anyways. “But there’s no telling what’ll happen once I set foot inside the house. Probably get blown up.”

 

“Your mother still lives there, right? And Regulus did until a week ago. What if we Polyjuice you as Regulus?” Remus suggested, slowly. “She’d probably accept your return with relief, and you’d be able to get close to Kreacher.”

 

“Depends what kind of enchantment she’s put on there,” Sirius acknowledged, nodding slowly. “But that might work, yeah.”

 

“Kreacher might be able to tell who you are,” James thought out loud, “House-elf magic and all. But if Regulus sends a sign along, to show he has to trust you…”

 

“Are you all insane?” Lily interrupted, balling her fists. “We are not sending Sirius anywhere near that house. Not only because most likely there will be Death Eaters roaming, but because he’d have to go back to a place he _ran away from over four years ago._ The Order can knock themselves out with Polyjuice, for all I care.”

Shame set in, swift and hot. James’ eyes went straight to his friend’s, but Sirius was frowning at the floor instead.

 

“Lily, I appreciate the concern, but no way anyone whose family hasn’t been inbreeding for generations can cross the doorstep. There aren’t _that_ many purebloods in the Order who are familiar enough with the house to get in and get out without causing Walburga Black to hex them into the ground.”

 

“I am.”

 

“ _No_ ,” Sirius snapped, immediate. “I don’t want you there.”

 

“I can deal with your mum, Sirius. And I know your house.”

 

“I don’t want you there. If something goes _wrong-_ ”

 

“It _won’t_. And if something goes wrong while I’m there it’s more likely to end well than if it’s you.”

 

“It _isn’t_.”

 

“It _is_ , Sirius, you know you’d let me go on a dangerous mission anywhere else if I had to, and your mum has _nothing_ on me. Okay? _Nothing_.”

 

“I don’t want _anyone_ going to that place without me!” Sirius snapped, hitting his palms on the ground in frustration.

 

“Well, I don’t want _you_ anywhere near it!”

“Enough!” Lily interrupted, clapping her hands together. “Boys. Enough. One of you is going to have to go, we’ve established that. I say we take a vote.”

 

“Fuck you,” Sirius said, sagging, as James looked gratefully towards his wife.

 

“I vote James.”

 

“James.”

 

“Me.”

 

Sirius’ hands twitched, and he set his jaw as he looked sideways, but James knew he’d not try and go behind their backs on this one. He _got_ what he was saying, really, and in any other situation he’d have voted on Sirius’ side, but anyone who made Sirius set foot in Grimmauld Place was not only cruel but stupid as well.

 

It was Remus, perhaps not so surprisingly, who slid down to Sirius’ level first, not touching him but stopping his legs just shy of him.

 

“I don’t suppose Dumbledore was forthcoming about the Horcruxes.”

 

“No. But who’s surprised?”

 

“He’ll know more than we will,” James pointed out, racking his brains. “Maybe Grindelwald was messing with this kind of thing. It took Dumbledore to take him down.”

 

“So we have to hope he tells us?”

 

“He’ll have to,” Lily mused. “Tell you and Regulus a little, at least. You know, now. He needs you to get to the first one.”

 

“Are you saying we should bargain with Dumbledore?” James asked, blinking.

 

Lily set her shoulders. “Yes. Don’t you think it’s about time we know what’s happening?”

 

“What a woman,” Sirius smiled, with a spark of his usual fire. “Evans, you think like a winner.”

 

“Well. I don’t like to lose.”

 

“Tom Riddle was a student at Hogwarts, once,” Remus said, suddenly. “Dumbledore will have _memories_ of him- if he still uses his Pensieve, we may be able to actually track some of the places Riddle will have considered important as a child and a young adult. Psychologically, that’s what will have stuck with him the longest- especially for someone as stunted and obsessive as him.”

 

“Riddle was an orphan, wasn’t he?” James added, trying to recall what he knew. Since the man had began terrorizing the nation, presses had less to say about him, but a combination of attempts to figure out just who he was in the news and the little Dumbledore let slip about his old days had given all of them at least a vague picture of the man behind the myth.

 

“As far as I remember, yes.”

 

“Then Hogwarts will have been his first home, won’t it?”

 

Sirius met his eyes wryly.

 

“Like I said,” Lily said, spreading her hands. “Negotiate.”

 

“Dumbledore needs to command the Order,” Sirius pointed out, after a pause. “So he can’t go chasing down Horcruxes alone. Which means he may need to delegate.”

 

“We wouldn’t be his first choice,” James reminded him, tilting his head. “Not exactly his most consistent followers.”

 

“I don’t know,” Remus considered, frowning. “That may count in our favour. Sending us on a mission directly against Voldemort gives him more certainty that we’ll do what he wants us to do. Then again, there are far more experienced Order members out there.”

 

“Yeah. I don’t know if Dumbledore would send people fresh out of school to fulfil the most important mission there is.”

 

“He didn’t seem to have any qualms using us thus far,” Sirius snorted.

 

“It’s not qualms I was thinking of.”

 

 

James and Lily spent the evening there, in the end, the conversation tapering out and then resuming off-topic as the wine started pouring. It was one of the things in life that restored James’ faith in the survival of good- mankind’s capacity to find light and laughter even when everything around them seemed so dismal.

 

Sirius’ room being taken and Remus being ill, the three of them ended up sleeping in the living room, Lily on the couch and James and Sirius on a makeshift mattress on the floor.

 

“Do you remember,” Sirius whispered, eventually, sounding sober, “When we went up to your folks’ in fourth year?”

 

“To buy you those records,” James remembered, fondly. “Yeah. I do.”

 

“I thought going up there was the present.”

 

“I remember that. I told you I wanted you to live there forever.”

 

“So we could pop out of Hogwarts and into your house,” Sirius finished, amused. “I thought you were joking.”

 

“I wasn’t.”

 

“I know. I did end up doing just that, didn’t I? Just a year late.”

 

“You had me worried at the start of that summer. Not a single word for weeks, and then suddenly you appear in my garden with that great big suitcase and a bloody lip…”

 

“I’m sure I’ve made more dramatic an appearance.”

 

“I wouldn’t doubt it.”

 

“I wasn’t exactly in the best state of mind that year.”

 

James turned a little, mildly surprised, and met Sirius’ half-lidded eyes in the dark. “Well- I’d expect so, yes.”

 

Sirius sighed. “I suppose you’re right- _again_ \- in not letting me go back. I always think I could, if I had to, but then I never seem to get it through my head that I won’t have to.”

 

“Not as long as I have a say in it,” James agreed, forceful. “Order or not, Siri- that place is nothing but bad news. And even if I didn’t care about how you’d feel, which I obviously do, you git, I can’t imagine putting you there would benefit the Order at all.”

 

“That’s arguable.”

 

“Not really, no. You hate feeling cooped up, and when you are you get reckless and impatient. Which makes you a liability.”

 

Sirius blinked, taken aback, and James softened.

 

“It’s not always just valuing you above the Order, mate. Most of the time the two go hand in hand. So stop acting like you’re guilty of something.”

 

There was silence for a while. James would have assumed Sirius had fallen asleep, but he knew his friend better than that, and waited him out, fighting the urge to succumb to sleep himself.

 

“Prongs?”

 

“Mh?”

 

“Don’t let her get into your head. Don’t underestimate her, okay? And don’t let her distract you. I don’t care _what_ she says.” He hesitated: “Please. I’m serious.”

“You’re always Sirius,” James replied sleepily, winced when Sirius kicked him off the mattress. “Sorry. I won’t. I don’t want to give her the pleasure of it.”

 

“Better not,” Sirius muttered, and shifted so James could climb back onto the mattress, which he did, flinging an arm around Sirius and reeling him closer.

 

“Night, Padfoot.”

 

James awoke to what he assumed was Regulus Black standing a safe distance away with a pale face. Once he’d grabbed for his glasses, he found just that, with the bonus of an expression like he’d been forced to eat several lemons.

 

“Morning, sunshine.”

 

Regulus let out an extremely tense greeting and didn’t move an inch. James blinked at him, blinked down at Sirius, who was still asleep with his hair a fanned out mess, and blinked back up at Regulus.

 

Oh, dear. Poor Regulus seemed to be getting ideas.

 

James grinned.

 

“Sleep well?”

 

“Could you,” Regulus said, as stiff as a starched collar, “Wake my brother.”

 

“Of course,” James smiled, wide and accommodating. Regulus’ eyes bore genuine holes into his face as he leant towards Sirius’ head. “OI! SIRIUS!”

 

“What the fucking fuck is your problem, you raging arsehole, I will rip out your guts out and feed them to your wife,” Sirius sputtered immediately, sitting upright and rubbing his ears with venom in the glare he sent his way. “I have _sensitive hearing_ , that was not fucking necessary- oh, you’re awake.”

 

“It’s past _ten_.”

 

“Goodness, is it really? Do you need help with the toaster again?” Sirius shot back, dripping sarcasm.

 

“Perhaps you could check in with your _Order._ You know, in case they forget about the whole-” Regulus shot James a look. “Affair.”

 

“You mean the Horcruxes?” James asked, to which Regulus looked like he wanted to hang himself.

 

“You _told them_?”

 

“Of course I fucking told them,” Sirius gritted out, irritably shaking his hair out. “In the Order, sometimes we _trust_ people with information.”

 

“Oh, should I invite the whole lot over then? It only concerns our only lead for stopping the Dark Lord himself, after all,” Regulus said, flinging his hands in the air.

 

“For the love of Godric, you pompous twat, the four of us are the ones who are going to be _hunting_ the Horcruxes,” Sirius threw back, which wasn’t exactly true but certainly shut Regulus up.

 

“You four. Albus Dumbledore is sending _you four_.”

 

“Well, I suppose you might be around once in a while,” Sirius shrugged, now twirling his wand to braid his hair. “But yes.”

 

“Is the Order so desperate?” Regulus asked, disbelieving.

 

“You know nothing about the Order,” Sirius snapped. “Or us. Save the lip.”

 

Regulus shut up, although his posture screamed mutiny.

 

“We’re meeting Dumbledore somewhere safe at lunchtime,” Sirius said, finally, dropping his braid. “Until then, if you’ve nothing to say, may I suggest you go into the kitchen and allow us to get dressed? Unless you’re keen on watching.”

 

Regulus was not keen on watching.

 

“Your brother really doesn’t seem to like me,” James commented, as Sirius stood up and helped him clear up the living room.

 

“Don’t take it badly. Regulus likes no one except my mother and her house-elf.”

 

“I think he hates me personally, though.”

 

“Probably does. Can’t imagine why,” Sirius muttered, before huffing and deciding to go get dressed.

 

James could, a little, but he didn’t feel like bringing it up just now.

 

It was better for all involved if James didn’t confront the elephant in the room concerning Sirius’ brother just yet. Besides, as much as Regulus Black needed to be taken down a notch or two, the day after his Horcrux reveal was not the time or place for it.

 

“I feel like I’m watching Tuney and me, but as a Spanish soap opera,” Lily mumbled, from the couch, rubbing her eyes. “Morning, James.”

 

“Sounds about right,” James answered, and extended a hand to help her sit up. “Morning, Lils.”

 

They set off at around twelve, Regulus frogmarched between Sirius and James as Lily supported Remus’ slower walk. The sky seemed too grey for the advance of spring to be anywhere near them, and the Muggles hurrying past seemed to be in no mood for the weather.

 

James was used to feeling like he had a target on his head, nowadays, but with a Death Eater between them the feeling was significantly increased. Mad-Eye would have their head, he reckoned, no matter how safe they tried to be.

 

Not the moment for doubt. He shook it off.

 

“Right, boys and girls. Regulus in the sidecar, Remus and Sirius on the bike, Lily and I on the brooms.”

 

“No Portkeys?”

 

“Dumbledore didn’t want anything that could be traced.”

 

“Are we flying in formation?”

 

“Yes. Don’t break ranks unless we need to get someone off the trail of the bike. Lily and I will be on your sides.”

 

“The flight shouldn’t be too long,” Sirius said, slipping his mirror into his pocket. “Two hours if we’re lucky with the weather. We’ll fly low as soon as we’re out of the city.”

 

“You’ll be okay with the flying, right?” James asked Lily lowly, as the others checked the horizon. The redhead rolled her eyes with a pale smile.

 

“I can fly, James. Just not as well as you can.”

 

“In your defence, few people can,” James winked, rubbing her shoulder reassuringly. “Okay. Until we get to an emptier street, Regulus goes under the Cloak. Sirius, lead the way.”

 

It took a while to get to a more suburban area of the city, Sirius going incredibly slowly on the bike as the others jogged behind, but once they were in the clear, things went very fast. The Cloak was stuffed away, Regulus strapped in; Sirius revved his engine as James and Lily climbed onto their brooms and snapped their goggles and gloves on. James had played Quidditch too long not to enforce equipment wearing for long flights.

 

Thankfully, there were little dark clouds anywhere near them, although James eyed the grey warily as they ducked through windy passages. Lily flied slower than both he and Sirius’ bike did, keeping their pace more easily followed than he would have liked.

 

He kept casting an eye around, flying a little ahead to clear the way or a little above to check the surroundings, but their tail seemed clean enough.

 

“Just under one hour to go,” Sirius called, once they were somewhere past Cambridge. “Can someone check North-West for me?”

 

James dipped to the left, and shot up just as quickly, urgency in his veins.

 

“We’ve got company! Hit the clouds!”

 

“Are you sure?” Lily yelled, above the roar of the engine.

 

“Yes! They haven’t seen us yet, go out of sight!”

 

The two brooms and the bike swerved upwards, into the foggy skies, and James caught a glimpse of Regulus’ blank expression before everything went misty.

 

“Prongs, Evans, I’ve lost visual on you two,” Sirius shouted, somewhere just below him.

 

“I hear you,” James called, lowering. He could hear the hum of the bike, tilted his broom to emerge by its right side. Sirius shot him a quick wave, returning his concentration to flying his metal contraption through the clouds.

 

“I’m here,” Lily shouted, appearing a little behind them. “Caught up in the wind for a moment.”

 

“Are they still following?” Regulus asked, the first he’d said since they’d stepped foot outside. James glanced towards him, found his fingers clenched around the sides of the sidecar, knuckles white.

 

“I’ll check,” James nodded, gesturing onwards. “Straight line, and don’t get pulled too high. If there’s trouble hit the gas.”

 

He drifted downwards bit by bit, the bike and Lily vanishing out of his sight as he did, until he was just skimming the bottom of the cloud, then pressed his body flat against his broomstick and turned just enough that he was fighting against the wind.

 

There- not far below, four or five spots of black, fluttering upwards. James muttered a spell, enhanced his sight. So far, nothing told him they’d seen them, but they seemed to be following their trail somehow, albeit slowly. He squinted upwards- no, no sight of the others.

 

Frowning, James pressed upwards, leaning hard into the stream to catch up with the others.

 

“So?” Remus asked, above the noise. “Have we lost them?”

 

“No,” James shouted back, causing Sirius to squint up at him briefly. “But they don’t seem to know where we are, just where we’re going.”

 

“Shit,” Sirius cursed, frustrated. “We can’t let them follow us there.”

 

“Call off the meeting?” Lily asked, frowning as her hair whipped into her face. James shook his head.

 

“No. There’s four or five of them, and we have the element of surprise. Let’s get them off our trail.”

 

“All of us?” Sirius asked, although he seemed to already know the answer by the way he sighed loudly once James shook his head. “Yeah, yeah, keep straight on. I got it.”

 

“Come on, Lils,” James gestured. “You three stay hidden; you’ll know if we need help.”

 

He and Lily turned and dove downwards side by side, James’ one hand navigating her broomstick down next to his. The Death Eaters had caught up somewhat, but they were just now approaching the clouds- now was the time to strike, if they wanted a clean fight.

 

“Ready?”

 

Lily and he fired off a spell almost in exact synchronization, her _Stupefy!_ hitting one Death Eater while his missed the one next to him by a hair. They ducked out of sight just as the group began firing curses upwards, the man they’d hit toppling to the ground.

 

“Four to go,” James shouted, as they swerved out of the way of a volley of green and red. He burst out of the cloud at top speed, maintaining his shield up as his broom raced downwards fast enough that the Death Eaters began flying upwards and out of his path, assuming he was hurtling towards them. Which was what James had wanted, of course, as he yanked his broom upwards just moments past them, trapping them between him and Lily above.

“ _Confundus!_ ” James yelled, ducking away from a nasty hex as his protective charm stopped. A tell-tale thudding told him he hadn’t missed his mark this time.

 

He had to defend himself against fierce assault after the hit, two of the remaining Death Eaters tag-teaming him from each side. Shield one side, shield the other, and James wouldn’t be able to hold out long. He gritted his teeth as one stinging hex shot clean into his arm, and dropped his broom abruptly, sending the two crashing into one another as he shot out and away. Wind whistled loudly in his ears, the high pitch almost animal-like.

 

His arm was streaking red through the rumbling grey sky; he switched his wand to the injured arm and used the other to flip himself around the broom, firing off a rapid succession of jinxes behind him as he sped out of the way, cloak slapping against the broom.

 

There was a shout, and the Death Eater following Lily went spinning by James, clutching his face in agony- followed by a scream in Lily’s voice as her broom burst into flames, vivid against the dreary landscape.

 

“NO!” James heard himself cry, and hurtled downwards as fast as he could, just as Lily jumped off her broom. She hovered in the air for one clean moment, eyes shut tight, just long enough to James to reach out a hand and grab her waist with his uninjured arm.

 

Her eyes opened; the broom swayed dangerously downwards, and James clenched his jaw and forced his weight upwards, leg muscles straining as Lily threw a gust of wind upwards over his shoulder. She was grubby but unharmed- his pulse calmed.

 

“Get on!”

 

He dipped the broom lower; Lily fell onto it, grasping at him hurriedly as he pulled the broom out of the trajectory of another burst of flames.

 

“ _Bombarda maxima!_ ” Lily yelled, blasting one Death Eater out of the sky before ducking down as the last one vanished and reappeared right above them.

 

“ _EXPELLIARMUS!”_ James managed, sending the man’s wand flying in the nick of time, but he seemed undeterred, suddenly launching himself at them. With the added weight, the broomstick went hurtling downwards, James yelling in frustration as he tried to knock the man off and keep them in the air with his vision obstructed.

 

The guy’s hands went around his throat; James jabbed his wand sharply upwards into his stomach, gasping for air as he swerved the broom wildly side-to-side, and there were sparks and a boot to James’ head and then the broom lurched, the man falling gracelessly downwards as James cussed and strained back up.

 

For a moment he simply hovered, regaining his breath.

 

“Your glasses,” Lily said, breath short, pressing her wand to them and fixing the glass. Then, taking notice: “James- your _arm_.”

 

“It’s fine,” James said, shaking it off. It wasn’t, but it was survivable. Not urgent. “We need to catch up. The others will be miles ahead.”

 

Lily made to protest, and he shook his head. “Not now, Lils, please.”

 

“Let me at least stop the bleeding.”

 

“Fine. Quick.”

 

She muttered a few words, and a bubble came to float over the wound, pausing the flow. James pressed upwards.

 

Once they’d regained the clouds, up to speed, he cleared his throat.

 

“That was my dad’s broom, that.”

 

“I know,” Lily answered, quiet. “James. I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be,” James corrected, rapidly. “He’d have been happy to know it helped.”

 

“I know,” Lily said, laying her head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

 

They flew a good ten minutes as fast as they could, but James didn’t have to go much further to find Sirius’ motorbike stalled just ahead of them.

 

“I told you to go on!”

 

“I did,” Sirius shrugged. “I’ve got a booster, remember? Any sign of trouble I could have shot ahead.”

 

James sighed in annoyance, floated to the level of the bike. “We’re in the clear. Lost a broom, though.”

 

“And James is injured,” Lily added, pointedly. Sirius and Remus’ heads snapped up in unison. James gave her a sour look.

 

“Not badly. We’re not far off now, are we?”

 

“No. Half an hour, I’d wager,” Sirius said, warily examining James’ arm. “You can take it.”

 

“Let’s not waste any time, then,” James nodded. “Fly lower. If there are any others we might as well see where they are.”

 

For all their heightened suspicion and James’ pained arm, the rest of the flight went smoothly. It seemed very little time after that Sirius swooped downwards, a little cloister village to be seen amidst the greenery.

 

They parked the bike on the outskirts of the forest, hiding the broomstick in the sidecar, and paused to stretch, stiff and tired from the flight and the dready conditions.

 

“Good charm work, Lily,” Remus noted, observing the wound, “But it’s a good thing we landed soon. I think it hit a muscle.”

 

James winced, unsurprised. Quidditch injures had rendered him pretty aware of just where he’d been hurt.

 

“Dumbledore said to meet in the old nunnery,” Sirius said, looking down at the valley. “Say, does this place ring a bell for anyone else?”

Now that he mentioned it, it did. James examined the sturdy stone walls and fell upon a name, but it was Regulus who spoke first.

 

“Birthplace of Helga Hufflepuff, obviously. Can we get inside?”

 

Dumbledore, as always, seemed to have known exactly when and where to expect them, as he was sitting peacefully enough on a wooden bench by the nunnery as they made their way to him.

 

“Your journey has been easy enough, I hope?”

 

“Minor hiccups,” James said, extending his hand. “Hullo, Professor.”

 

“Thankfully I had expected Sirius to bring more than just his brother to our little gathering,” Dumbledore smiled, “And so there is enough tea to go around. Do serve yourselves.”

 

“Thanks, Professor.”

 

“And James? Let our Madam Pomfrey’s charming sister tend to that nasty hex before you leave.”

 

“Of course,” James mumbled guiltily, with an unwilling smile. The man could read minds, and one day he’d prove it.

 

Sometimes he forgot people didn’t know Dumbledore the way they- the way he did. That he wasn’t the headmaster they’d teased and loved for all of school and the leader they respected but didn’t always agree with- that he was a distant figure of authority they’d known little of and a fearsome leader that inspired the same kind of reaction in Death Eaters and their ilk that Voldemort did in the opposite side.

 

He remembered that now upon seeing Regulus’ reaction to the man.

 

The first time he’d seen Regulus and Dumbledore in the same room, he’d been worrying about Sirius. This time, he was scrutinizing the younger brother, and didn’t miss the way his expression mirrored almost exactly the way he’d stiffened when the Death Eaters had appeared on their trail.

 

Fear of the man or fear of something else? Who knew.

 

“I expect,” Dumbledore said, once they were all sitting down, his long hands folded together. “Messirs Black will have informed you of our talk yesterday.”

 

Sirius nodded, chin jutted out challengingly, as Regulus stared blankly at the wall.

 

Dumbledore smiled.

 

“There is no need to fear, Regulus. In allowing your brother into that room, I gladly invited the other three.”

 

“Professor,” Remus said, rubbing his fingers together, “Was this the first you knew, about the Horcruxes?”

 

Dumbledore considered them for a moment, then nodded. “Yes. I have been attempting to delve into the man’s psyche for some time, but Horcruxes… They are not my field of expertise, to say the least. The only people I expect will have known much of it are Professor Slughorn, and perhaps our previous Defense Against the Dark Arts staff.”

 

He sighed and turned his gaze south. “Tom Riddle always incited my caution. Should I have sensed the darkness within him so young? I shall never know. I watched him as a schoolboy, not closely enough perhaps. But Horcruxes, alas… I never guessed.”

 

“You think there are several, then?” James asked.

 

“Oh, yes, James. I am afraid now that I know what Lord Voldemort has planned, I begin to suspect a number of trails to be followed.”

 

“How many?” Lily asked, quietly.

 

“That I cannot tell you,” Dumbledore sighed. “Certainly above four.”

 

_Four._ The same as Regulus had guessed.

 

“So what now?” Sirius asked, arms crossed. Dumbledore held his gaze for a moment, thoughtful perhaps.

 

“An excellent question. Now, we hold an invaluable clue. It is imperative first and foremost that the other side does not realize what secret we hold. Beyond that, we now commence a new chapter of this war- a secret mission to render Tom Riddle the man he should be.”

 

“Who will be carrying that out, sir?”

 

Dumbledore’s grey eyes met his. James held his ground.

 

“I believe, Mr. Potter, you already know the answer you expect me to give.”

 

“That’s not the answer, though.”

 

“No,” Dumbledore agreed, running his fingers through his beard. “You see, Mr. Potter, I am prepared to be a little presumptuous and assume that I might have thought of something you have not.”

 

They looked at each other, Sirius’ frown pronounced, Remus’ face clearing in understanding.

 

“Yes, Mr. Lupin,” Dumbledore nodded. “In the excitement, you have forgotten who you are.” He turned a sharp eye back on James, who raised his shoulders expectantly. “Remus, after all, is a werewolf. Once a month, he becomes that which he despises. For days he is incapacitated.”

 

“What difference does a day make?” Sirius snapped, but Remus shook his head.

 

“It won’t just be one day. If we hunt them down- it’ll be many days, slowing us heavily down.”

 

“He’s right,” Regulus added, before Sirius could open his mouth, and the two of them glared at each other for long enough that James shook his head.

 

“Professor, Remus is already in the Order as a werewolf. We manage it. We take turns. We fit it in. It’s like any wizard with some kind of condition- that wouldn’t change on this mission more than any other.”

 

Remus’ eyes flew to him, and James gave him a serious look. “If you’ve managed to stay a valuable aid to the Order this long, I don’t see why this mission would alter that.”

 

“Remus’ very condition, however, is also an asset to the Order,” Dumbledore pointed out. “He is our only leeway with the werewolves.”

 

“Fat help that’s been,” Sirius interjected. “No offense, Remus. But those underground werewolves- we’ve not had a single one turn coat. Most of them are feral. It’s like the bloody giants- a dead end.”

 

“Indeed,” Dumbledore allowed. It was like he was waiting at every turn to see if they had an answer to come up with. “I suppose the physical taxation of such an endeavour worries me too. In relative comfort, Remus, you are already suffering. In the middle of the woods, the alleyways, I fear it may not be as easy.”

 

“If I get the time to concentrate on that,” Lily said, grabbing their attention, “I could try and do something about it. I’ve been giving him little things but the Order takes too much out of my day. Potions have always been my forte, Professor, if we could get in touch with someone like Professor Slughorn- I know he’s neutral, but he likes me, he’d let me talk to him.”

 

Dumbledore turned a raised brow towards Remus, who looked very worn indeed. James placed a hand on his.

 

“When I first asked you if I could join the Order,” Remus said, quietly, meeting Dumbledore’s eyes, “I thought you would turn me away. I wasn’t expecting anything else. I’m a liability. But you disagreed with me then. I remember your reasons. And, if you think it wise, I don’t see how any of them do not apply to this mission in particular.”

Dumbledore nodded slowly for a very long time indeed, then abruptly broke into a cheery smile.

 

“Well! That much is settled, then.” Just as abruptly his smile vanished, and he turned once more towards James’ side of the table. “Now we face your issue.”

 

It had slipped his mind, somehow.

 

The prophecy.

 

“Professor,” Lily said, quietly, not looking at Regulus but somehow conveying her meaning clearly.

 

“We need not go into specifics,” Dumbledore agreed. “You both know what I mean. Hiding does not, I believe, entail going on an open-ended manhunt.”

 

James licked his lips and looked at Lily, who looked back with his expression mirrored on her face. He didn’t have the same instinctive knowledge of Lily’s thoughts that he did with Sirius, but he could guess them easily enough. For a year now, their lives had been ruled over by two colossal elements: the war, and the prophecy.

 

Going on a mission like this was going against all the rules put in place for their safekeeping. No enchantment. No Secret Keeper. No laying low. No avoiding people. Instead living with the risk of leading to the Dark Lord’s victory with their deaths. _Neither can live while the other survives._ Their child or Alice and Frank’s.

 

His instincts had long decided on their choice, but he was stalling, running the thought through his head, back and forth, finding flaws.

 

They were all looking at him, and he was looking at Lily.

 

_You can stop me_ , he tried to say with his eyes, worrying his lip. _If you don’t agree just say. I’ll listen. You always know what to do._

Lily nodded minutely, and he inhaled.

_Go ahead._

“We’ve been hiding for a year,” James said. “Our Secret Keeper spends his time almost getting killed. Our potential next Secret Keeper turned out to be a Death Eater. And we’re sitting ducks. More people die at home killed in their sleep or caught unawares than do in battle, Professor. You know this. We can’t stall forever. And I’d rather take my chances with my wand ready, when the time comes.”

 

“I agree,” Lily added, steady, before Dumbledore had the time to ask. “Perhaps keeping us hidden away has served better until now. But if we’re hiding out of fear of You-Know-Who finding us, Professor, and these Horcruxes are our biggest shot at defeating him, I’ll go for taking him down myself.”

 

“Spoken,” Dumbledore said, “Like true Gryffindors.”

 

For a moment, the room stayed quiet, James meeting Lily’s eyes, the others lost in their own thoughts no doubt, and Dumbledore especially saying nothing, turning his wand in his hand pensively.

 

Would their year of confinement truly end this easily? James knew better than to rush out celebrating- for all that he couldn’t stand being cooped up, this would come with a price, a constant vigilance, the kind that Moody preached. And yet Moody himself, after all, spent all of his time in the heat of battle, not hiding away.

 

Lily shifted, breaking his concentration, and he smiled at her, tentative. She returned the smile, assured, and he felt some small part of him relax. As long as Lily was on his side…

 

Sirius’ fingers had began to tap against the desk, and James winked at him with more ease than he felt, just because he always had and always would have enough left in him to wink at Sirius. Sirius blinked, caught in thought, then smiled despite himself, and winked back. It was James’ turn to smile fleetingly. Ridiculous, the two of them. He could visualize them in some Death Eater prison, exchanging banter across cells like they had in detention.

 

“When are you going to send someone to fetch Kreacher?” Regulus asked, breaking the silence. He didn’t look at any of them, eyes coolly out of the window, and his tone was trying for impatient. “You seem to constantly speak as though we already had our trail to the Horcruxes, forgetting that we do not.”

 

“I was hoping that would be accomplished after this very meeting,” Dumbledore answered, as if he’d been waiting for the question. He followed this with a slight smile.

 

“Do not concern yourself, Regulus. Your friend will be kept safe for as long as necessary.”

 

Sirius snorted, unamused, and Regulus gave Dumbledore a dubious look before looking away again, face pulled unhappily.

 

After the meeting, he’d said. James considered the old wizard and wondered just how far ahead he had things planned.

 

“Professor,” Lily said, gently enough. “If we’re going to do this, we’ll need to know all we can. Everything you have on Riddle. We can’t go into this blindly.”

 

For the first time since they’d walked in, tension billowed, but the old man didn’t let much shine through his expression, secretive as always.

 

“Yes, I suppose you’re quite right.”

 

So it would be them, James understood, in time with the others, and allowed himself a moment to register it fully. It would be them whose life goal, from now, was chasing down these fragments of Voldemort’s soul and destroying them, no matter the cost, no matter how many there were. It would be them, and their game started now.

 

Across the table, Sirius tousled Lily’s hair, almost subconsciously.

 

“We understand the importance of not showing your cards,” Remus added, seriously. He’d recovered first from the information, was now pushing on where Lily had started. “But keeping us in the dark can do no good. This is our one real chance to outsmart You-Know-Who, and even the smallest amount of information you have on him may prove key to finding his Horcruxes.”

 

Dumbledore hummed, his glasses glinting in the low burning light. Not for the first time, James wondered whether a young Dumbledore had been much different, or if he’d always been this odd, this brilliant, this wrapped in secrets.

 

“Perhaps, indeed, it is time that I share with you the early days of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, Remus. I have long carried too many memories for such an old mind. That, I suspect, will lead us to find more traces of Riddle’s past.”

 

“We already have one,” Sirius pointed out, gruff.

 

“Ah, excellent point. Yes- Regulus, with a great deal of cleverness and bravery, has done the work for us,” Dumbledore stated, surveying their youngest companion as he looked down.

 

“We should get the locket before he has the chance to think about it,” Regulus said, lowly. “I don’t know that he would guess. But if he thinks there’s more than coincidence…”

 

James could almost hear the traces of fearful reverence in his voice, caught the sneer on Sirius’ face. Dumbledore, meanwhile, only nodded.

 

“Yes… I have thought things over, since our talk. It seems to me I know perhaps where this cave may be. It is not far from the orphanage in which I first met Tom Riddle.”

 

“But it’s heavily protected, isn’t it?” Lily asked. “Will we be capable of by-passing the security, Professor?”

 

“If we ask our friend Kreacher to lend a hand, certainly we may reach the island. It is this potion he drank that I am wary of.”

 

“Potion?” James asked. Sirius hadn’t gone into the details of Regulus’ story.

 

“It appears it causes the drinker excruciating pain, subjecting their minds to the outmost torture whilst poisoning their bodies. If one were to attempt the operation alone, I have no doubt it would cause a painful death, little relieved by the Inferi populating the waters.”

 

The wizard’s eyes went knowingly towards Regulus, whose eyes were dark and cryptic.

 

“Good thing no one was stupid enough to do that,” Sirius said, loudly, breaking the stand-off. “It’s survivable, though, if _Kreacher_ was able to live through it.”

 

“You underestimate the magic of the house-elf, Sirius. But yes, I wager we might be so lucky.”

 

“So our first step is getting Kreacher,” James suggested, tapping his wand against his knee. “Then he’ll take two of us down there, one to make sure the other doesn’t die.”

 

“Indeed, James. It would appear so.”

 

“Do you know which of us will be going, Professor?” Remus asked, watchful.

 

“I believe I do. However, in this particular journey, only one of you will be going- I will be the one to test the potion.”

 

“You can’t be serious,” James said, disbelieving. “You’re the leader of the Order. And invaluable to the cause.”

 

“Certainly. It comes with certain benefits of wisdom and strength. You are still young; I think better suited to carrying an old man to safety than to throwing your minds against this brand of dark magic.”

 

“Won’t we be doing that anyways in this Horcrux hunt?” Sirius demanded.

 

“Yes. However, knowing as we do the effects of this potion, I do not deem it wise to expose any of you to it. Lord Voldemort was clearly enjoying the dramatics in this visitation of his childhood memories- it would surprise me if the rest of these Horcruxes were so damningly hidden away.”

 

They exchanged uneasy glances, but there was nothing James found to say. Dumbledore seemed to have prepared himself for this line of argument; as much as his thinking sat badly with them, it was not without common sense.

 

“So one of us takes you,” James continued. “Who?”

 

“Someone that Kreacher cannot betray,” Dumbledore said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “Someone that, likewise, will not flinch in carrying out his duties.”

 

And, of course, his gaze turned to Sirius.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FORGOT to mention, as an apology for how long it took to write and rewrite this, i also chugged out a hogwarts era sidepiece (way more comedic and light to read) featuring bratty fourteen year old james et co, which should be the most recent work on my profile. enjoy, and please comment if you can. i've missed reading through them.


	12. Flesh, Blood and Bone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> end january to begin april is only really two months, right?? 
> 
> i return with a lot of remus, a slice of black, and unnecessary amounts of research into what exactly triggers the transformation of a werewolf in the harry potter universe. the length of this story is crazy.
> 
> anyways, i do love sirius-remus interactions, so this chapter is mainly filled with those; their dry humour charmed me first in PoA and has stayed with me ever since. there will be more remus-regulus times ahead, but i wasn't going to inflict that on poor remus when he's already in a state. (and no, they are not ever going to be of the same nature as those with sirius, thankfully). what else? right, next chapter will be a return to my Number One Boy, sirius, which is all good and in order even though it feels like it's been eons since i've written from his perspective. luckily, it'll be a nice and dramatic episode, so he'll forgive me, i hope. 
> 
> enjoy, and hopefully i'll manage to write some more before my finals. if not, expect june.

Chapter Eleven: Flesh, Blood and Bone

_"D'you think you managed to get all the signs?" said James in tones of mock concern._ _  
"Think I did," said Lupin seriously, as they joined the crowd thronging around the front doors eager to get out into the sunlit grounds. "One: He's sitting on my chair. Two: He's wearing my clothes. Three: His name's Remus Lupin...”_ _-_ J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

 

\--

 

_Remus opened his mouth to argue, but a glint of sunlight caught him in the face as he moved, and suddenly everything was too bright and too much again, a groan escaping him as he clutched his head._

_“Remus?”_

_“Fuck,” Remus gritted out, dizzy and dazed. “Can I personally please scoop Fenrir Greyback’s guts out and eat them?”_

_“Sad meal,” Sirius said, cautiously cheery, though Remus was struggling to register his voice beyond the disorienting screech of discomfort in his ears. Each of his individual muscles was pulling at him, molecules closing in on the temptation to explode._

\--

 

The full-moon descended rapidly upon them.

 

The days after their meeting with Dumbledore had been fraught with tension, newfound information and the gravity of their mission dawning upon them all. _Horcruxes_. Remus had tried to focus his fraying nerves on research, but homebound as he was, with the scarcity of reading material, he hadn’t gotten far.

 

They hadn’t had the chance to sit around and look pretty, that much was certain. Once the meeting had come to an end, Dumbledore had Apparated with them to the city, his powers far stronger than theirs, and left almost immediately for Grimmauld Place, James on his arm

 

In eerie synchronicity, the Black brothers had set their jaws and rubbed at their arms, the one with a sort of unsettled ache, the other with an explosive unhappiness.

 

“He’ll be fine,” Lily had said firmly, ignoring Regulus’ withering glare with a cool glance of her one. “No use making an easy target of ourselves, boys.”

 

Lily had stayed to wait for James.

 

She’d waited a while.

 

Sirius had started to pace after an hour and a half, almost on the dot. It had clearly driven Regulus out of his mind, and he’d sat with gritted teeth and eyes screwed shut as Lily sighed and turned her music up.

 

Remus, although he might have felt a little bad about it, hadn’t been particularly worried. James wasn’t the type to let Walburga Black into his head, not even with taunts or barbs that hurt. Especially not on a mission, and especially not when he knew he was worrying Sirius.

 

If anything Remus had wondered how hard a house-elf could resist the call of a beloved master, when the words came from someone else. He suspected it had been wise on Dumbledore’s part to tag along, for the sake of evidence.

 

Besides that, he’d felt like shit. He didn’t have the energy to focus on fretting over their friend when his bones felt like they were straining against his skin.

 

At some point Lily had gotten up and turned on Sirius’ record player, which at least snapped him out of his pacing holes into the carpet, and made Regulus startle like a rabbit caught in a trap.

 

_No, Remus. Don’t think of eating Sirius’ brother. That would be decidedly inappropriate._

 

Remus had shut his eyes and prayed for sleep, which had not come, not then, not an hour later, when a sharp cracking noise had him on his feet ready to shield them.

 

All of them had had their wands out- but Sirius and Regulus, he found, did not seem to be expecting anything other than the ugly bent creature that appeared, James in tow.

 

“Filth,” what Remus assumed was Kreacher had hissed, hate in his voice, “Filthy disgusting blood traitor- _Master Regulus_.”

 

“Kreacher,” Regulus had said, voice strained. Sirius had made a disgusted noise, and Kreacher’s big bloodshot eyes had rolled up in recognition, something like cold crazed hatred actually choking the air in the room for a moment.

 

“Him!”

 

“Delighted to see you, Kreacher,” Sirius had snarled back, trying for a cool sneer but missing by a mile.

 

“You,” Kreacher had grated, spindly fingers reaching for God knows what. “You, you disgrace to the name of Black, Kreacher should have known it was Sirius who had taken Master Regulus, oh yes, Sirius the scum, who has broken the Mistress’ heart, and betrayed his blood-“

 

“You’re wasting your breath, Kreach, your Mistress has about as much of a heart as I have patience. Regulus, would you like a private audience to suck each other off, or can we get this fucker out of my house?”

 

“You’re repellant,” Regulus had inhaled, but he’d seemed off even to Remus’ distracted eye, no doubt destabilised by the situation. “Kreacher. You musn’t return home. You must listen to the Order now- to Dumbledore and his men, for as long as I tell you to.”

 

“Master Regulus-“

 

“Please, Kreacher. I swear the Dark Lord will not lay a hand on you again. We must help the Order defeat him.”

 

“Kreacher obeys Master Regulus,” Kreacher had said, breaking into a deep bow, his nose and ears flat against the floor. Lily had paled and looked away. “Kreacher will do anything Master says, even if it is to obey these disgusting men with their bad ways, oh yes, even the terrible one with the long beard, Kreacher will listen.”

 

Now Regulus had looked a little anxious. “Kreacher, you must promise me, you will not seek to evade these rules. You will obey me and my broader intentions, not betray myself nor the Order- nor my brother. Nothing of this must be said or told in any way to anyone else.”

 

Kreacher had bowed again. “Anything for Master Regulus.”

 

“Then I order you to stay safe,” Regulus had said, and averted his eyes. “To stay hidden, and to obey the Order unless they betray us.”

 

“The Order would never-“

 

“Yes, Master Regulus.”

 

With that same odd, sharp crack he had vanished. Regulus had seemed suddenly lost.

 

“Dumbledore is waiting for him outside,” James had said. Remus had looked into his eyes, found no lie or pretense- he’d seemed a bit tired, a bit put off, but nothing terrible, nothing hidden away. He had felt Sirius and Lily’s eyes roving the same way, looked away instead. “He’ll be taken to some safe house, likely out of the city.”

 

“Are we sure he won’t go against us somehow?” Lily had asked, gaze heavy. “The Order doesn’t seem to have many friends at Grimmauld place.”

 

“No,” Sirius had said, before Regulus could even open his mouth, expression sardonic. “Regulus is the only direct heir to the Black line, one of two remaining members of the household, and he’s _nice_ to the thing. Wouldn’t dare even searching for loopholes, not when Regulus is giving the orders. Now, if it were me... Different story.”

 

Lily had nodded slowly. Regulus had inhaled and turned away.

 

“Your posters are still up,” James had said, breaking the tension with a sly little grin. And Sirius’ mouth had mirrored his, just like that, because that was them, two sides of a two-way mirror.

 

“All of them?”

 

“Including the ceiling ones.”

 

“Finally some good fucking news.”

 

James had laughed, and the line of Sirius’s statue-stiff shoulders had melted into the sweep of a paintbrush, his usual fluidity seeping into the canvas of his limbs.

 

Remus had sat down and closed his eyes again. This time he had slept.

 

The retrieval of Kreacher had changed things. The mission, for one, had started to feel concrete, but there was more to it- Regulus and Sirius both seemed to have upgraded to a new level of Black Family Dissonance, whatever that entailed. Remus could only observe, not understand.

 

 

He sat now with his head in his hands, eyes unfocused over the parchment he was meant to have finished reading an hour ago.

 

Dumbledore had sent on whatever obscure works on Horcruxes he had at his rather more generous disposal, in case they proved useful, but he seemed to be of the opinion that there was little about the very nature of the things which would prove useful to them. His focus was Voldemort himself- understanding the man to undermine him, so to speak. Once they figured out what he might have made a Horcrux out of, they could start worrying about the rest.

 

Privately Remus doubted Dumbledore was truly so disinterested, but he understood his strategy. The abstract workings of Horcruxes would be of no help to their destruction.

 

The moon had steadily filled out across the past week, and even in the middle of the day Remus could already feel that godawful pull, his muscles straining under his skin, his nervous system oversensitive to the slightest word or touch. As he sat now, alone in the kitchen, the very breeze filtering through seemed to cut at his skin.

 

“What’s cooking, good looking?”

 

Tired as he was, Remus smiled unwillingly. It was with some effort that he brought his gaze up to find Sirius frowning at him from the doorframe.

 

“Nothing, if someone doesn’t go on a grocery run.”

 

Sirius’ frown at the feeble jibe was hidden smoothly, but his eyes belied the concern Remus had spotted, hardly trying to cover it up. It made him jittery and guilty, although he was used to it.

 

“Hey. You’ll be okay, tonight. Nothing we haven’t done before.”

 

That much was true, but Remus felt like arguing anyways. To point out it’d been a while since Sirius had to watch him, that there was one Sirius where there had been three Marauders, that Regulus was there.

 

The last point he could not ignore.

 

“Your brother, Sirius.”

 

That flicker of a mask dropping. “What about him?”

 

“You know what,” Remus said. “What if I hurt him? What if he panics? What if he takes advantage of it and makes a run for it?”

 

“He won’t,” Sirius said, stubbornly. When Remus gazed at him quietly he grit his teeth. “He _won’t_. I can handle him, and I can handle you. Just trust me, all right? It’ll be shit but nothing will go wrong.”

 

He hadn’t said it would be fine, which Remus appreciated him for. Those kinds of white lies had started to sting instead of soothe years ago.

 

“I trust you,” Remus said quietly, instead of all this. Sirius looked at him some more, gripped his shoulder reassuringly, and finally eased up, accepting the statement.

 

“What’ve we got on the schedule for today otherwise?”

 

“Not much. I’m just doing some personal research.”

 

“Sounds horrendous.”

 

Remus snorted, indulgent, and pushed his book away. Like he was going to work when Sirius was there. Years of Hogwarts had taught him the futility of such an attempt.

 

“What do you want, Black?”

 

“Cold,” Sirius said, but he was already sort of grinning, and it reached his eyes, which was a change from the post-Regulus norm. “Who says I’m not here to, say, peruse my own damn kitchen?”

 

“I’m not food and you made a beeline for me the moment you came in.”

 

“The amount of restraint it is taking me not to make a joke about you being a snack right now,” Sirius sighed, “Is colossal.”

 

“Clearly not, given you basically made it anyways.”

 

“Remus, you need to let me have something. What do I have left if not my impeccable sense of humour?”

 

“God, it must be hard being so plain and unremarkable.”

 

“A feeling you would not recognize.”

 

“Stop it,” Remus snorted. “You’ve distracted me, you win, all right?”

 

Sirius punched the air in exaggerated triumph as Remus sighed. “Only been trying for eight years.”

 

“Succeeding,” Remus conceded. “Too often.”

 

“You flatter me,” Sirius smirked, and turned to examine his fridge.

 

They stayed in companionable silence as Sirius ate, Remus feeling sicker at the sight of the food but unwilling to make Sirius leave.

 

“You know,” Sirius said, and Remus forced his eyes open to look like he could have a normal conversation only to find cool grey eyes already on him, thoughtful and presumptive. It made his back tense, but he didn’t fight the calm way Sirius was keeping his mind off things. “I think Regulus is coming around to Muggle clothes.”

 

“How so?”

 

“Yesterday I caught him staring at my sweatpants wistfully.”

 

For one flash of a moment Remus’ thoughts disconnected from the conversation, then he reminded himself wryly that whatever he may have thought about his own Black in sweatpants, these thoughts were ( _hopefully_ ) not shared with his brother.

 

Come to think of it, Regulus seemed to be lacking clothes...

 

“We could buy him something?”

 

“Like hell am I spending money on him,” Sirius barked. “Already freeloading.”

 

“Yeah, but spending your heritage money on corrupting your brother via Muggle clothes would pretty deserving, no?”

 

Sirius paused, thought, and pointed at him accusingly. “Sneaky bastard.”

 

“It’s either that or letting him wear your clothes until Merlin knows when,” Remus pointed out, slyly.

 

“Snake,” Sirius said, without heat. Then he sat himself down, and frowned at the ceiling.

 

“Do you reckon Dumbledore made the right choice, for this mission?”

 

It was rare for Sirius to visibly doubt any mission that had him front and centre, especially one like this. Remus held his gaze as best he could, and searched for an answer worthy of the question. In the end it was simple.

 

“Yes.”

 

Sirius raised a brow.

 

“All the things he said make sense. Kreacher can’t directly disobey you anyways, as a pure-blooded Black, and Regulus is least likely to send you to your watery grave, if only because he’s connected to you by his tracker. Beyond that, you’ve got the best overall balance of reflexes and power in our group, and you’re by far the most likely to see the mission through. James will always save others before himself, I lack your nerve and physical strength, and Lily doesn’t have the practical knowledge of Dark Arts that you do.”

 

“In short I’m the best best because I’m a Black,” Sirius said, wry. His profile was sharp, but his hair was coming loose in tendrils, framing his face softly. Remus dug his nails into his palm.

 

“That’s not what I said.”

 

“It is, though.”

 

Sirius met his eyes, and didn’t seem angry, or even very upset, just sort of ironic. It was either uncannily mature or worryingly grotesque, Remus wasn’t sure yet.

 

“It’s all right. Bound to have to think about this sort of thing with him in the house.”

 

Remus opened his mouth to argue, but a glint of sunlight caught him in the face as he moved, and suddenly everything was too bright and too much again, a groan escaping him as he clutched his head.

 

“Remus?”

 

“Fuck,” Remus gritted out, dizzy and dazed. “Can I personally please scoop Fenrir Greyback’s guts out and eat them?”

 

“Sad meal,” Sirius said, cautiously cheery, though Remus was struggling to register his voice beyond the disorienting screech of discomfort in his ears. Each of his individual muscles was pulling at him, molecules closing in on the temptation to explode.

 

“ _Fuck_ me,” Remus said, with feeling, wishing he could bash his brain out against the table.

 

“Right now?”

 

“Shut up, Padfoot,” Remus laugh-grimaced, barely able to emote without wanting to cry. You’d think over the years he’d have started to manage this.

 

“I’m gonna go grab you some of the easing potion, yeah?”

 

“No, keep it for- when it gets worse,” Remus shivered, shaking his head. “Just get the- the usual pills.”

 

“Sure?”

 

He managed a grunt of assent.

 

In his line of vision Sirius rose, looked at him for a good moment, and vanished out of the kitchen.

 

 

The rest of the day crept by at an atrocious pace. The pills and various home remedies kept him functional until mid-afternoon, but everything past that was an ever-worsening haze of pain, and the darker the outside got the more Remus wanted to howl- both figuratively and literally.

 

Sirius, ever pragmatic, distracted him by checking off all the precautions they’d taken, which served to reassure him at the same time.

 

“Healing potion ready, cooling in the kitchen. Your room prepped, all valuables stored, with the windows sealed and curtained shut. Shielding around the apartment so that you couldn’t get out if you tried. Actually, you should try, it’d be a laugh. Where was I? Oh, yes- me, the key to every success. Ready to get furry whenever duty calls.”

 

“Don’t say it like that.”

 

“It speaks!”

 

“Hate you.”

 

“Anything I’m missing? Oh, plenty of raw meat and chocolate are ready for the taking- and making the Muggles think I’m a mass murderer, incidentally.”

 

“Probably soon.”

 

“You are so sweet.”

 

Belatedly Remus remembered another concern, and squinted at Sirius with mild urgency, forehead beaded with feverish sweat that had built up across the last hour or so as the sun went down.

 

“Your brother.”

 

Sirius paused. “Is an idiot? Yes. Tell me more.”

 

“He- he needs to be told,” Remus articulated, or maybe slurred. “Hurt otherwise.”

 

“He’ll be fine,” Sirius dismissed, clicking his tongue. “We’ve put a Muffliato on your room, he won’t even hear a thing.”

 

“No,” Remus pressed, urgent. “Hurt. He’ll- he has to know.”

 

In his mind’s eye he could see it so vividly. Regulus inquisitive, maudlin- Regulus unlocking a door, or opening a curtain, and the accursed moonlight finding its way to where it shouldn’t be, to Remus’ animal eye, where the beast lay awakening, snarling.

 

In his mind’s eye Regulus’ face morphed into a younger one, sallow and spiteful, and James’ panicked voice, as Remus sat barely even recovered from his transformation, light pale as it filtered through the drawn curtains in the hospital wing. James absolutely incensed, and Remus not even sure what they were talking about, trying to piece things together. Trying to understand why James was so angry, why James was angry with Sirius, because James was rarely angry but he was never angry with Sirius.

 

_“He would have died.”_

_“It was a joke.” Sirius’ voice, mutinous, with an odd, twisted note, something like fear. That, too, Remus hadn’t recognised. “Didn’t think he’d actually follow through, did I-“_

_“You knew. You knew he would, do not lie to me, Sirius. You would have let him die.”_

_James’ alien voice again. Blank, like James had never been in his entire life, blank and terrifying with rage. Blank, and Remus’ chest feeling blank, feeling numb, thinking of Snape in a tunnel with his eager malicious eyes hungry for the truth and Sirius saying joke as the wolf smelt fresh meat._

_“Well- well, big loss, innit-“_

_“You would have murdered him just because he’s- you would have done that to Remus!”_

 

And Remus had wanted nothing more than to dig his nails under his skin and scream.

 

Perhaps Sirius, too, remembered this story, because he remained quiet, and finally rose.

 

“I’ll get him in.”

 

Remus was too strung up to say his thanks, but he felt them anyways.

 

As Sirius did whatever he needed to do, he dozed for a couple of restless minutes. His reprieve was cut mercilessly short by Regulus and Sirius reentering the room; the added energy made him at least slightly more able to function than he had been in their previous conversation.

 

“Remus insisted on this,” Sirius said, arms crossed as he stared sullenly at his brother. “So listen to what he has to say with the utmost interest.”

 

“I already know what you are,” Regulus snapped, looking at Sirius before he reluctantly turned back to Remus. His hands were fidgeting. If Remus concentrated he could smell the fearful puzzlement on him. “A half-breed.”

 

Sirius’ hand came down fast and clean, smacking Regulus’ head down so efficiently it slammed down against the door before he could react. Remus winced sympathetically.

 

“Don’t you dare,” Sirius said, low and violent. His grip was steely on Regulus’ nape. “Did I or did I not tell you that if you spoke ill of my friends you’d be on the streets?”

 

“I-“

 

“Get out.”

 

“You can’t kick me out,” Regulus whispered, honest fear settling into his voice. Sirius’ face was stony.

 

“He won’t,” Regulus interjected, before things got ugly. Or uglier than they were. “Not because he’s not right. I presume Regulus doesn’t think of half-breed as an abnormal word to use, Sirius. Stupidity is not always malice.”

 

Regulus flushed, but he seemed caught off guard as Sirius glared at him.

 

“Are you saying he’s so far gone he thinks slurs are just common vocabulary?”

 

“Well, yes.”

 

“Not an excuse.”

 

“No,” Remus sighed. “But I took no offence. I don’t care what your brother thinks of me.”

 

“No one does,” Sirius bit, still incensed but focusing more on Remus now, relaxing slightly. Remus looked at him, and expected to feel more tired or outraged, but he felt somehow softened, like he didn’t know Sirius would rip someone’s head off for treating him like shit.

 

Regulus looked like he was physically choking, which was recognisable enough from years ago that Remus had to consider whether he wanted to hear some kind of butchered apology from the younger Black. In the end he decided that whatever came forth would not only lack sincerity but also likely cause Sirius to brain his brother against the door.

 

“How’d you know I was a werewolf, then?”

 

Regulus spared Sirius a spiteful look, then turned to look back at him, and Remus observed interestedly as his eyes first met his coolly before skittering away.

 

“It’s common knowledge. The Dark Lord is followed by many werewolves, and there isn’t exactly more than one Remus Lupin going around trying to convert them to the Order way.”

 

“You sound unimpressed,” Sirius said, lips quirked up sarcastically. “Not a fan of this party move?”

 

Regulus’ expression smoothed methodically. “I find it distasteful.”

 

“Obviously. The Great Asshole is all about pure blood. Odd that he recruits giants and werewolves right and left.”

 

Regulus didn’t spare that an answer.

 

“It’s the full moon. Your brother and I will handle it, but I wanted you to know to be careful, and steer clear of my room. If you could avoid anything like cooking or commotion, that would also be for the best.”

 

“Sit still and look pretty,” Sirius summarised, “Or you’ll get eaten.”

 

Remus shot him a look. Sirius narrowed his eyes.

 

“Eaten by me, obviously. Remus is a vegetarian.”

 

The younger Black didn’t react to the barb, but his expression was strange, and he was scrutinising Remus with the sort of careful intensity Remus himself was used to dishing out, with the added burn of Sirius’ scornful observation. Remus wondered not for the first time what to read into the dark veil of his eyes.

 

“I won’t bother you,” Regulus finally said, as if he’d forgotten why they’d brought him in to begin with, and as if it were the most stupid thing he’d ever been asked. “When can I expect your- episode to come to an end?”

 

“Once the sun rises,” Remus offered. “As might be expected.”

 

Regulus paused, presumably to see if Sirius was about to violently throw him outside the room or something of that nature, which he didn’t do, and exited with another word.

 

They waited in silence as his footsteps echoed down the hall, then stopped in the living room. Remus’ headache reared its ugly head.

 

“Happy?” Sirius asked. He didn’t seem particularly cheery himself, mouth set and arms crossed, which Remus chose not to read into, rather preoccupied himself.

 

“Brimming with joy.”

 

“I know that took a lot to say, so I’ll ignore the vitriolic sarcasm.”

 

“Fuck you,” Remus sighed, burying his head in his hands. Sirius snorted, and then the door closed audibly. The next time he looked up, he found Sirius perched on his coffee table, waving his wand this way and that as he secured the exits.

 

Had his earlier ache not kicked up with astounding intensity, he might have thought more seriously about the tremendous disgust he for with himself for not only leeching off Sirius’ resources, but also ruining the very spaces he’d already invaded by posing a very literal danger to both the actual place and its occupants. He knew from experience that if he was in a safe space, the Marauders could manage him, but Sirius’ apartment was not the Shack, and Sirius alone was not the three of them.

 

The thought of harming Regulus had worried him, sure, but the possibility of doing anything to Sirius made him physically ill to the point where he couldn’t be sure if his nausea was entirely transformation-related.

 

Out loud, he said only: “Easing potion. Please.”

 

“Getting to the good part, then,” Sirius said, and passed him the potion with a relaxed wink. Remus was too drained to either appreciate it or jinx him.

 

Outside, the moon crept higher into the sky, and Remus’ skin burnt.

 

 

There were a great deal of myths about werewolves that had absolutely no ounce of truth to them. Hell, there were a great deal of myths about lycanthropic transformations that were completely untrue. Remus had a few favourites, which tended to overlap somewhat with those of his friends- Sirius, to no one’s surprise, loved all of the terrible saucy literature that middle-aged witches liked to indulge in with titles like _Wanted by a Wolf_ or _Bewitched by the Beast_ ( _Lustful Lycans_ took the prize, in his opinion), and James liked to find the most absurd small-town beliefs about werewolves, usually inspired by an exaggerated tale spun by some Muggle attacked by an angry squirrel. Peter, given the nature of his Animagus form, was somewhat less rambunctious about the transformation, but he had a knack for sniffing out the truly stupid myths, the likes of _if you grab a werewolf’s tail during transformation it turns into a cow,_ which James had immediately suggested they attempt. That had been before the Snape affair.

 

In any case, on the matter of transformations, sources agreed that the whole thing was unsavoury, hideous, and excruciating, which Remus deemed about a fair summary of the feeling. Of course, he might have added a few choice words, about a novel’s worth of curses, and maybe a little dramatic scream for flair, but in terms of sentiment it was about right. Maybe lacking a little anguish. _Hairy Snout, Human Heart_ had gone for the real melodrama, which he hadn’t minded either.

 

The real kicker was the myth that moonlight was the trigger for his transformation. He bloody wished that were the case. Locking himself in the dungeons for the night would have been quite the solution. Exposure to the moon, yes, meant there was an instantaneous bodily reaction, but no matter where he was hidden away, he transformed, the night of a full moon. Sporadically, of course- sometimes as soon as sunset, sometimes in the early hours of the morning (the worst kind of sometimes, mainly due to the anticipation), but without fail nonetheless.

 

This night had been an early one, a blessing and a curse. He’d bit out a warning to Sirius, probably uselessly, considering Sirius knew his tells by now- and the fact he was on the floor on all fours might have been a good one- and then it’d gone hazy with pain, his bones cracking and his head screaming as his body rearranged itself into the beast he became.

 

Remus hated making a scene, but a scene came regardless of what he liked. Distantly he could register Sirius transforming, but urgently he registered every inch of his body mutilated, his jaw unhinging, his spine elongating, his skin twisting and thickening as though being pulled at by steel prongs. Potions and medicine eased the pain from unbearable to ungodly, but it was hard to appreciate when everything was collapsing in on you. His mind, already, was vanishing into nothing but pain, pain, pain, his lungs retching for air, eyes rolling back in his head, and all he had left in his thoughts was the pain, and all he had left was this, and all that was left was the wolf, fitting into its body and finding its bearings.

 

Once the beast emerged he had no control. Fight as he may, no part of him could take over from the animal lurking in his chest- he could remember, afterwards, with a cruel, damning lucidity, but in the moment it meant nothing to him, in the moment he was a ravenous animal.

 

Padfoot had been there, and the room had been secured, and the moon had not shone through, so the wolf had been- appeased. Beyond the lengthiness, and the strangeness of the place putting the wolf on edge, in the mood to hurt, it hadn’t been a bad night; had been a far better night than he’d had in the past few years of living alone, all things considered.

 

(Those times, pain worsened by his physical state, danger worsened by his solitude, were not worth remembering. Remus )

 

Once or twice there had been a danger. Though werewolves were by nature calm around animals, especially similar breeds (like dogs, he thought, like dogs), they didn’t cancel out the inherent wrongness of the werewolf- he smelt the humanity of the apartment, a scent which the Shack had always lacked, and it sent him for the door more than once, balking at the charms and clawing at his companion when it set to turning him away.

 

Once or twice did not make a rule, though. When he came to at some godforsaken hour of the morning, feeling physically drained of his blood, the room was mostly intact, and Sirius was sitting with tired eyes running a cautious hand over his arm from where he was sprawled over the floor.

 

Everything hurt, enough that tears welled in his eyes uncalled for when he tried to speak, but it hurt a lot less than he’d become used to, the past while of fighting it alone. It hurt less when Sirius caught him looking and shifted him carefully upright, and when he got him to swallow one of Lily’s potions, and when he dug in his pockets to reveal Honeydukes’ biggest portion of chocolate bar. It hurt less when he dozed off unhappily and awoke not alone and shivering but rested against someone’s shoulder.

 

The first thing he said when he was able to speak was “motherfuck”. The second thing, though, was: “Thank you.”

 

Sirius said something stupid between that and “No, it’s not.” And something dumber before Remus could follow up with “I know _that_ , but thank you.”

 

He woke up a third and final time feeling like he could actually move, but Sirius was the one who’d fallen asleep then, a restless slumber Remus hesitated to let him prolong as he tossed and turned uncomfortably against the arm of the sofa.

 

In the end he didn’t have to choose, because Sirius started awake of his own volition, eyes a clear grey before landing on Remus and softening.

 

“Awake at last, sleeping beauty?”

 

“One of us has to keep this household running,” Remus answered, with dark sarcasm. Sirius, because he was a complete arse, hit him on the head, which was unduly painful.

 

“One day a month doesn’t make a household.”

 

“You won’t even eat my chicken soup,” Remus muttered, although this was not a fight he felt like having in day 1 of his recovery. Sirius was barely capable of looking after his own mental health, let alone the health and safety of himself, an asshole werewolf, and his recovering facist little brother.

 

Jesus. They sounded like a bad American sitcom.

 

“No one wants to eat chicken soup every day of their lives, Lupin, Merlin,” Sirius complained, standing up with far more drama than necessary (a fair description of Sirius’ entire life, really). His hair looked glossier than normal, if possible, whenever he was straight out of dog form, even as it fell out of his loose ponytail, and Remus thought not for the first time that he would swear Sirius’ nose could twitch on demand.

 

Unfortunately for anyone ever to meet Sirius, this looked more roguishly charming than ridiculous. It was a great bane of Remus’ life that things that really should have looked at least somewhat unflattering tended to ignore the laws of the physical realm for Sirius’ sake. Although Remus would be the first to argue that Sirius deserved far better than the cards life had dealt him, he definitely didn’t deserve improvement in this area, and in fact could have done with some knocks to his ego. Instead he flourished and his entourage suffered.

 

James at least had the basic decency of acting and looking like a complete tool around his crushes.

 

He didn’t voice this thought, for obvious and plentiful reasons, instead struggling to at least sit upright unaided and glowering when Sirius came to help. Unlike James, Sirius would probably have let him do it for his pride’s sake, but also unlike James Sirius liked to be a difficult person and thus not only helped him up but repositioned him against the cushions.

 

“I’m not actually your elderly aunt.”

 

“Godric, I’d hope not,” Sirius said, with a flat eyeroll. “Having more than three Blacks under one roof at the same time curses the building forever, haven’t you heard?”

 

“That’s what happened to Hogwarts, then?”

 

“Who’d you think caused all that whack shite in the Forest?”

 

“I thought Dumbledore just kept that for the shits and giggles.”

 

“Well, that too.”

 

He mustered a genuine chuckle at that, and Sirius smiled back, canine but sincere.

 

“Well, now that we’re done with your time of the month…”

 

Remus shut his eyes with an entertained huff. “Wouldn’t it be class if Lily’s synced with mine? You and James’d have a real good time then.”

 

“Oh, all the _jokes_ ,” Sirius said, enthralled. “Gods, what an opportunity. I’ll have to ask her when she’s due.”

 

“I don’t think that’s the kind of query she’d appreciate.”

 

“Why not? I’m being a supportive mate!”

 

“Right.”

 

Sirius had picked his up in between Remus closing his eyes and reopening them, and the room’s furniture was floating obediently back into position. Nothing seemed particularly roughed up, but his stomach twisted nonetheless, cold seeping into his bones to replace the tired warmth he’d been managing.

 

“Anything beyond repair?”

 

“Nah, couple of scratches at best,” Sirius replied, easily. He spun to examine the room, gave a little satisfied nod. “You can check if you don’t believe me. Very well-behaved little pet of yours.”

 

“And you?” Remus asked, although he wasn’t looking at him anymore.

 

Sirius sighed. “Minor scratches from your attempted escape, Moony. You’d know if you’d gotten me somewhere that counted.”

 

He managed to give him an unhappy look as Sirius came to squat by the couch once more, eyes sharp as he hunted an untruth, but the only scars visible on his friend were the faded whip-traces of the Cruciatus Curse peeking out from under his shirt, and older scuffles lining his arms.

 

“The only one you’ve ever hurt is yourself, Remus. You’re gonna have to start accepting that sometime.”

 

Sirius’ face was more calm than fierce, but something in the matter-of-factness of his tone made Remus’ insides clench anyways, like he could sense whatever Sirius was thinking without him saying it.

 

He might’ve believed it, but he was wrong. Every time he let the wolf win he hurt someone else.

 

Sirius groaned loudly, drawing Remus’ attention as he rose and ruffled his hair in frustration.

 

“Nevermind that, my furry friend. We’re in the clear for a month. Eat your chocolate. I’m going to take a fucking shower. Your raw meat diet does not leave an appetising smell behind for the ladies who want a piece of this.”

 

“Another mild issue with your suggestion that I was a vegetarian,” Remus noted, although he smiled when Sirius flipped him the bird.

 

It was typical of their resident dog, he reflected, that he strut out with the desinvolte attitude of someone who hadn’t just tailored his hair ruffling to the delicate sensibilities of the lycanthrope.

 

He managed to stubbornly dress himself in Sirius’ absence. The faint sunlight from outside hurt his head, but more in the way that it might hurt the hungover, and less in the supernatural call-of-the-moon sort of way, which he supposed was acceptable.

 

Days after left him weak and drained, but he’d endured enough hospital wings (and lack thereof) to have developed a hatred of inertia. Sirius would most definitely throw him bodily into a bed if he saw him wandering around, but Sirius Black was a terrible hypocrite, and Remus was not scared of someone who once almost cried because James bleached his hair for a day.

 

With this in mind, he tottered feebly around the room with gritty resolution, checking for potential damage before staggering into the hallway and towards the kitchen.

 

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” said his addled brain before Remus had the time to review. Regulus Black cast him a mildly disturbed and frankly bemused look from where he was frozen by the toaster. He seemed, Remus thought, to have an actual issue with that toaster.

 

“…Beg your pardon?”

 

“Oh, please do,” Remus snorted, more to himself than to anyone else. Charitable though he tried to be, there was only so much he could be expected to be put up with hours after regaining a human form, and small-talk with Sirius’ disturbing Death Eater brother was not on his list of top ten activities.

 

Out loud, he said: “Don’t mind me, I’ve not had the nicest sleep.”

 

Regulus, with some kind of self-preservation instinct that his brother definitely lacked, fell mercifully silent. Remus managed to get the kettle going after almost unplugging the damn thing thrice with his unsteady hands.

 

Once he’d poured himself three mugs of coffee, sat down, and bit with unnecessary ferocity into his chocolate, he felt somewhat more human. Regulus was still there, now eating oats (god, was the child trying to follow some kind of austerity regime or did he have no taste), and Remus wondered how many questions were bubbling over in his head.

 

In all honesty he felt no urge to answer them. On any other topic, sure. When he was 95% secure in his knowledge that whatever he’d be asked would be infused with pureblood rhetoric, he didn’t feel so keen to elaborate on the intricate workings of the werewolf life, somehow.

 

Instead, returning the favour of Regulus’ stealthy examination, he watched him back. The teenager looked less starved and beaten up than he’d been upon their first reintroduction, which wasn’t all that surprising, and Remus had noticed his shoulders had lost an inch of their wooden stiffness since Kreacher had been rescued from the Black household.

 

He’d even thought privately that Regulus had been relaxing ever so slightly around the occupiers of the apartment in general, whether this was the Muggle electronics or his scowling older brother. Which wasn’t, admittedly, saying much, considering the probably endless layers of overly-intricate, Greek tragedy-esque interpersonal tension between those two. Remus had honestly never met any two individuals so neatly out of a novel of some kind, and he lived amongst wizards and witches in a time where the main threat to the free world was an asshole who called himself Lord Voldemort.

 

Strange boy, Regulus Black. Not in terms of personality- Remus did not, over the breakfast table, think he was capable of unpacking that mess, but physically. From an angle, in certain lighting, you’d have sworn Sirius was sitting across from you, but there was something lacking in his features which, combined with his demeanour, could make them difficult to even identify as direct siblings, sometimes. The colouring, asides from the eyes, was the same: that bronze pallor, the raven hair. The structure, too- fine yet unbreakable, sharp yet fluid. But something, unnamable, was present in the one and not the other.

 

It was there, lurking, in Andromedea, if he forced his mind back. Perhaps even present in Bellatrix, but he struggled to remember her outside of the heat of battle.

 

Battle… He thought back to their encounter with Regulus, what seemed like a different lifetime. He’d seemed fully prepared to kill his brother then- not only prepared but intent on it. With Sirius weak, without the three of them, Regulus might well have been successful, in fact. And then, what? The puzzle got harder to solve.

 

The reminder cooled the lenience he was inclined to show Regulus. Whatever his current alignment with the Order, it certainly didn’t translate into some devotion to Sirius, and Remus wasn’t going to allow him to think in the opposite direction.

 

They were still sat in silence when Sirius emerged in the kitchen, smelling like lemon and soap, hair wet and reaching to his shoulders.

 

“Did I kill the vibe?”

 

“Regulus and I were working on Occlumency,” Remus retorted, accepting the glower that came his way gracefully. “You smell nice.”

 

“Thanks,” Sirius grinned, which reminded Remus that he was still too out of it to be talking and also that he was doing a fine job of making Regulus hate him forever.

 

“Disgraceful shirt, though.”

 

“Remus, every time you attempt to convince me that Pink Floyd in any way compares to Queen I grow closer to formally evicting you.”

 

 

In the following days, James and Lily reappeared into the apartment, fully determined to ignore every complaint Remus fielded their way as they bullied him into good health. Nevermind the fact this had been an easy moon to bear- when this was explained to them in convincing rhetoric, Sirius shut the whole argument down by claiming the “emotional duress” of living with Regulus made this the worst transformation my default.

 

James in particular he was happy to have around, though. He had always had a sixth sense for people’s likes and dislikes, of the adaptable kind, and was able to thus change between loud distraction to quiet company at the twitch of a finger.

 

Nonetheless, good friends and charitable fates did not change their lives, and their habitual lack of time didn’t pause to spare them. Remus was barely up to speed when the realities of their tight schedules began to chase them once more, grim news of more deaths reaching the quatuor. Fabian and Gideon Prewett, both taken in combat.

 

The news was doubly devastating in that the brothers were well loved and well liked, their absence a heavier blow to morale simply due to their unending cheer. Sirius and James, always companionable with those who brought laughter in dark times, took the news especially hard, and Remus’ heart sunk at the thought of Molly Weasley, mother of so many small lives, standing in the kitchen of that rickety house as she heard the news.

 

Those twins of hers had been named after the brothers. Now they’d never remember them.

 

Regulus was not informed directly of the deaths that Remus knew of, but he must have inferred enough from their mourning to make himself scarce, because he was especially blank and withdrawn as they found their ways to swallow the grief and fight on. There was no chance to attend the funeral.

 

In light of this all, their search for these Horcruxes seemed paramount. Remus cursed himself for recuperating so long. Guiltily, at the same time, he was aware that he was nonetheless reluctant to see their hunt begin- not so much for the endless danger and trials he saw ahead, because those were abstract and not so far from their daily life, but because Regulus’ reports of Kreacher’s tale haunted him.

 

The debate on Sirius and Dumbledore had been settled, but the description of the place profoundly disturbed him. The potion Kreacher had been made to swallow, for it could be nothing else, was clearly some novel kind of Dark, and its effects seemed excruciating. If by chance the only reason for his survival had been house-elf magic, then great danger arose for Sirius and their old Headmaster. One of the two could easily perish in the cave, and Merlin knew how the other would react then.

 

Death and Sirius were old friends that Remus would have liked to see less of together, but that sort of half-death, body rotted and mind corrupted, was unpalatable even in this war. Letting Sirius take the risk, even slight, of falling prey to the Inferi curse- it made him nauseous.

 

Rationally he knew that by the side of Albus Dumbledore, greatest wizard of all time, Sirius risked little. But the nightmares he’d been having of the cave kept him awake nevertheless.

 

He’d asked Lily, tired and drawn, as they sat and reviewed newspapers.

 

“Do you think he’s even thought of it?”

 

“I think,” Lily had said, strands of her hair falling into her face, those remarkable green eyes blurred from exertion, “That in his mind it’s him on that mission or it’s someone else. And that’s what counts.”

 

The note, Remus had considered. Regulus’ original plan, thwarted by pure, absolute chance.

 

That was what Sirius thought about, then. Not himself but his brother, alone and unknown, dragged to the bottom of the lake.

“I reckon,” James told him, thoughtful, but sort of angry somehow, as they worked in the Potters’ garden, “Hogwarts should probably get past the housing system, sometime.”

 

Remus wiped at his forehead and considered James “I will literally tattoo Gryffindor tower on my arse” Potter for a beat before continuing.

 

“You do?”

 

“Yeah,” James said, watering a plant with undue intensity. “You can’t box people into four categories like that. Based off medieval idiots. Stupid.”

 

“Sounds like you’ve thought about it,” Remus noted, instead of making him lose his steam.

 

James set the watering can down with a hollow thump, and his hazel eyes flashed golden in the pale sunlight.

 

“Yeah, I have, mate.”

 

So much for the Houses, then. Once James Potter deemed something obsolete it rarely stood a chance. Remus nodded thoughtfully and continued pruning.

 

In the end, the choice wasn’t theirs. They belonged to the Order first, and Dumbledore had chosen. They belonged to each other second, and Sirius had made up his mind. Besides that he agreed with both of them (sort of). So the only thing left to protest was really his own battered heart, protesting that it had seen too much loss to bear the uncertainty of this whole debacle.

 

Luckily Remus was very good at shutting that particular organ up unless it decided to require chocolate.

 

The day they left was unexpectedly dreary, the kind of weather where rain is expected but does not come forth. Sirius was up at an ungodly hour opening blinds, and Remus found it in himself to combat the early time in favour of seeing him off, feeling sick.

 

“You should head over to James’, if you’re poorly,” Sirius commented, light. “Don’t need to house-watch Reg, as he’s coming with to Hogwarts.”

 

“I wish the rest of us could at least come there with you,” Remus sighed, rubbing at his brow. “I don’t like this whole set-up.”

 

“You like very little,” Sirius replied, although his eyes were wry. “Still, imagine having to converse with Kreacher for the next few hours. If I were Regulus I’d be shitting myself, thinking I’d saved him from Lord V’s maws only to have him strangled by yours truly.”

 

“Try not to maim your source before you reach the Horcrux,” Remus said, with affected exasperation. “And make sure Dumbledore’s back is turned when you do, or he’ll feed you both to the waters.”

 

“Might do so anyways,” Sirius suggested. “Naughty boy, Black, time to swim with the corpses.”

 

“Never refer to yourself as that in a Dumbledore impression again, thank you.”

 

Sirius barked out a laugh, bumping their arms, and Remus took the opportunity to grab his wrist and squeeze, hoping to convey some ounce of sincere sentiment in a way his always contrary friend would accept. Mercifully, he did, only stiffening for a beat before he sighed and pressed back.

 

“Not the kind of hot date I was promised, honestly, but it’ll do, I suppose.”

 

“Next time ask if he can take you to Puddifoot’s.”

 

“You know what, Remus, maybe you should take my place after all.”

 

Keep those grey eyes alive, Remus urged, silently. Whatever troubled waters you may find. Let the Order take care of their dirty work without costing one of our lives, this once.

 

Sirius stilled, lips quirking upwards, and almost as the crackle of an Apparition announced Dumbledore’s presence in their living room he turned to greet him.

 

“You know, whatever steamy affairs you’re engaging my brother in, you may want to focus on actual Occlumency instead, because I can promise you you still broadcast.”

 

Stop reading my mind, Remus thought immediately, then caught himself.

 

“Sometimes I like for you to know what I think, Padfoot.”

 

Sirius hesitated just a moment in the doorframe, then half-smiled.

 

“Well, it’s good to know. Sap.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love remus and sirius... sigh. and remus has a terrible swearing habit, by the way. this is just fact. mild-mannered tea-drinker or not, he's not all rays of sunshine. 
> 
> the saga of regulus and the toaster continues. as do the casual mentions of lily's Totally Not Pregnant state. she's not, though. i swear. yet.
> 
> as always, thank you so much to the commenters. i don't reply individually because i hate clogging up my comments with my own replies, but i can promise faithfully i reread them about as much as anyone rereads this. especially the book review types. love you all.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm writing more out of a personal drive than hopeful fan-service (although lbr everyone needs some dead Peter in their lives), so thanks a million for the support ;)


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